Riding Out This Storm
by taralkariel
Summary: Is the Winter Soldier back? Someone wants it to look that way. Can Sharon clear Bucky's name with Natasha's help? Who is orchestrating these attacks? Slow burn, four POVs, Bucky/Nat, Steve/Sharon. Written for BuckyNat/Staron appreciation month
1. Standing Down the Edge of the Cliff

**A/N: I wrote this for BuckyNat/Staron appreciation month, and I'll be posting a chapter a day! Chapter titles from Cloud Riders by Tori Amos**

 **Standing Down the Edge of the Cliff**

CAPTAIN AMERICA, DEAD?

Natasha Romanoff smirked at the tabloid cover. There were grainy photos of Steve, obviously from a few years back. The news cycle had moved on for the most part, and only the least reputable publications were still talking about what happened in Berlin all those months ago. The world was a tumultuous place and there were other, more pressing things to shout at the general public. Still, the fact that Tony Stark was known to be in possession of Cap's shield, and Cap had not been seen since then was suspicious.

If Steve were dead, she would know about it, she was certain. Her sources would have told her. Well, Rhodey would have. She'd been in contact with him for years, helping him keep an eye on their occasionally self-destructive friend. Even now, with all the increased security, she knew how to get ahold of him. Not that she would spend one of her precious opportunities to check on him by asking about Steve.

It had taken months for him to coax something out of Tony about what happened after he'd left the hospital, and even longer for Rhodey to pass some of the information along to her unprompted. What she knew was that it had been Zemo's plan all along, and T'Challa had brought him in. Steve and Tony had fought, Steve protecting Barnes and no one sure of how far Tony might have gone if given the chance. Even Tony, Natasha was willing to bet. But Steve had won, if you could call it that, and they had disappeared. An injured Tony had returned to the Avengers' compound to nurse his wounds and refuse comment to any news source.

Smiling politely at the cashier, Natasha paid for her groceries and turned her focus back to her surroundings. She'd gone underground immediately after the fight in Berlin, and had stayed there. The tabloids questioned her whereabouts sometimes, too, bringing up what she had done in previous lives. It almost made her smile to see their poor guesses, based on the 'facts' from the SHIELD databases. Not that there wasn't far more truth to those files than she would have preferred, but some things, especially important people from her past, were best left hidden.

Like her. She had fled to a cabin in the woods of the Rocky Mountains, correctly predicting that most people would expect her to return to her Russian roots. But she had gone to ground more than once since leaving that country, and it was easy to get lost out here. People tended to keep to themselves, which was an appreciated trait in her neighbors. So it remained her home base even as she continued to do what work she could find.

After restocking her cabin, she was just about to make dinner when she got a message. Not a call – she never received calls because background noise could give away too much information as to her whereabouts, not to mention the minimal number of cell towers in her area. It was on her computer, which used various dummy IP addresses and felt safe enough to use despite her desire to remain off the grid.

The request was for protection on a trip across the Black Sea. It was unclear whether she was protecting a person or some kind of tech, but the fee was sufficient without being large enough to cause suspicion. So she put what she could in the freezer and went to pack.

* * *

When she arrived in Istanbul, she was dressed like a local and went to the designated shop to await her contact. The man was younger than she expected and seemed rather nervous.

"Miss Tilki?" he asked hesitantly, trying to get a better look at her despite her sunglasses and scarf.

She smiled at him. "Is it just you, then, Mr. Aksoy?"

When he nodded, she turned and began to walk slowly toward the wharf, taking her time to do (or, at least, appear to do) some shopping as they walked. He fell into step beside her, fidgeting with his shirt whenever she stopped. No one paid them any attention, however, so she ignored his obvious distress. He was paying for her expertise, after all.

After nearly an hour, they reached the pier. He hadn't said a word since her name, though she had chatted amicably with several shop owners and passersby. She was not looking forward to having nothing but his company once they got to the boat, to which he pointed silently. It was a large ferry, already packed with cargo and didn't seem particularly intended for human passengers.

Her Turkish wasn't the best, so Mr. Aksoy finally spoke to make sure they had rooms waiting for them on board. The young woman who worked for the ferry company evidently confirmed this and called for a man to escort them to their cabins. Natasha didn't say anything, concerned with blowing their cover, and simply smiled at everyone involved.

"Well, that was easy," she said once they were alone.

He shrugged, unconvinced, not looking at her. "Our papers were in order enough to leave Turkey. We will see if they are acceptable enough to enter Ukraine."

Raising an eyebrow, Natasha sat down on the single chair in her room while Mr. Aksoy lingered in the hallway. "My papers are always in order," she stated blandly.

Something in her tone must have startled him, because he looked up sharply before smiling at her weakly. "Forgive me, Miss Tilki," he said quietly. "I forgot that you do this kind of thing all the time."

If he were a more forthcoming client, she probably would have joked with him about that. Instead, she returned his smile with one more convincing and suggested he go lay down in his cabin. He immediately took her up on that offer and shut her door as he left. She waited, listening, to be sure his door was shut as well. Then she let herself relax just a little.

As far as she could tell, there was no reason for her presence on this little adventure of his. If they were stopped when entering Ukraine, there wasn't much she could do about it then. If he feared some kind of attack on the ferry, perhaps he shouldn't have gotten them separate rooms. All in all, things were less than ideal.

She reasoned that her jobs in the last six months had all been of a more dubious nature than anything she'd done in a very long time. Since she had last been on her own, before joining SHIELD, she supposed. Things were rough without an intelligence agency backing her. So if some strange man felt he needed an escort to go from one country to another, she wasn't going to argue as long as she was getting paid.

* * *

It was a long trip across the sea, and she checked on Mr. Aksoy as often as he would allow. Mostly he stayed holed up in his cabin, despite her suggestions that they go on deck. After a while, she gave up and let him stay there – it was easier to keep track of him that way in any case. Foresight had compelled her to bring a book, so she spent most of her time sitting in the hallway between their two cabins, reading.

The ferry landed in Chornomorsk the next day, and Natasha escorted a still-nervous Mr. Aksoy to shore. His fears on not being allowed to enter were groundless and they were soon free to explore the town.

"Well, it's been a pleasure," she began.

"We're not done," he said quickly, looking afraid.

She frowned. "The job was to escort you across the sea, which I have."

Shaking his head, he took a step back from her. "That wasn't… that wasn't it, Miss Tilki. I need a ride to Kurhan."

Arguing with him proved to be fruitless, so she eventually gave in and went in search of a place to rent a car. He was silent and unhelpful again, even as she selected a car and they started driving. It wouldn't take too long to get to Kurhan and then she supposed she'd head to Odessa to get a flight home. That had been her plan before anyway and hopefully this little detour wouldn't cause too much of a delay.

It was easy to get lost in thought as she drove north and then west. Mr. Aksoy continued to be an uninteresting travel companion, and the road had less and less traffic as they went along. Until a sickeningly familiar sound broke her concentration and it took an effort to keep control of the vehicle. A tire had been shot out, she just had time to think before the sound repeated, but this time it was accompanied by glass shattering – the back windshield.

Mr. Aksoy was shouting something, which she ignored as she accelerated, despite the unevenness of the ride. Clearly, she was going to have some questions to put to Mr. Aksoy before she let him out of her sight. So she'd probably have to shield him with her body and hope no one shot through her again.


	2. Didn't Think It Would Come to This

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Didn't Think It Would Come to This**

Sharon Carter was not a traitor. She'd had to argue her case before her superiors for a few days after being placed on probation for over a month. Never one to miss an opportunity, she had used the time off to see the sites, particularly those about which Aunt Peggy had told her tales. There were many and she found her time adequately filled. Which helped keep some of her second-guessing at bay.

Because it could not be proven that she had given Captain America and the Falcon their gear prior to the fight at the Leipzig Airport, nor that she had aided them in any way, she was eventually reinstated with nothing more than a warning about future attachments. That was funny. Tony Stark was the poster child for emotionally compromised and she was the one being closely monitored? Still, she agreed to the terms and returned to work.

It was not an easy job to have, but she was proud to carry on the Carter legacy however she could. SHIELD was gone and Aunt Peggy had supported her decision to join the CIA when the opportunity presented itself. A great deal of former SHIELD agents had been moved to other intelligence agencies in the aftermath, but she was one of the few who had proven her worth early on, thus avoiding a desk job. It was important to her to not be considered a legacy, so she continued to keep her relation to Margaret Carter a secret.

After her forced vacation, she was glad to have something worthwhile to do. There was always some mess to clean up, some group to investigate to keep people safe. If she had to work her way up from desk jockey again, she was willing. Even if it meant working a few cold cases before being entrusted with anything more important for a while. Nothing could compare to when she'd been with SHIELD, but this was alright.

The cold cases were intriguing, like a woman named Susan Scarbo who had been killed in the London Underground. It appeared that she had been involved in some kind of terror attack, as there was residue from an incendiary device that had never been recovered. The woman's past was quiet, nothing out of the ordinary, so it was believed that she was a witness and the actual terrorists had been startled out of using that particular location for their plot.

Sharon investigated Scarbo's known associates and was able to find enough bread crumbs to connect her to HYDRA. Her superiors congratulated her on what they considered a solve, and she was given more recent cases to work with: a former French minister of defense was in a fatal accident in Algeria and an ex-official of the USSR who had been shot in the head at his home in the Bahamas.

The latter of these was obviously a hit, but the former had evidence suggesting it wasn't entirely accidental. Sharon began by traveling to question the witnesses, starting in Algeria. Their statements were already in the file, so nothing really popped – except when she talked to an elderly woman who lived right next to the site of the accident. She rambled a lot and Sharon was already planning her next move when the woman declared that Algeria was its own country now and France had no reason to start another war.

"What?" Sharon asked, at a loss.

"Like the last time! When I was a child, the French Minister was here and he was killed! We sent a peace emissary and they were blown up! It was years of bloodshed," the woman insisted with wide eyes.

Sharon patted her hand awkwardly. "I'm sure it's nothing to worry about," she said soothingly.

Eventually she was able to tear herself away and head to the Bahamas. After the usual questions, she subtly prodded each witness to hear if they had heard of any similar events happening before. It turned out another official from the USSR, one rumored to be in charge of a gulag, had been killed in much the same way a few decades earlier.

Two such cases being repeats of the past seemed like more than a coincidence. It certainly required some more investigation. On the flight back home, she poured over the old files and the new reports in search of some connection to each other. The newer ones seemed to be less professionally done (though that was small comfort to their victims), which could indicate that someone less experienced was performing the new ones. Since time was probably of the essence, she sent in a report stating her theory before continuing to research.

As far as she could tell, there was no reason these two hits would be chosen to replicate. Nothing about the victims, the locations, or the methods gave any clues. The original cases had suspect lists composed of basically all professional assassins known to be working at the time. Even some that weren't. So that was no help.

While she was on a layover at Newark Airport in New York, she got an unexpected phone call.

"Carter, where are you?" Neal Tapper wanted to know.

They'd worked together several times before and even dated briefly. Very briefly. But he would have called her Sharon if it was just a social call. "Newark, headed back. Why?"

"You'd better cancel that flight and get a car. There's been a murder we need investigated quietly."

"Where?" she asked, heading out of the terminal.

"I'll send you the address. You should be able to get there in a couple hours, at this time of day."

She didn't want to complain, but she had to ask. "Why me?" Certainly the CIA would have plenty of other agents in the area who could investigate. And after her forced hiatus she didn't think she was the most trusted.

"I read your report. I was looking for any other copycat hits."

"Which this one is?"

"I don't know, Sharon. But in the seventies, there was a senator killed at home in his pool, and now we have another found in the same circumstances."

Pursing her lips, she considered that he had a good point. And that she hadn't expected Tapper to be reading her reports. Had she sunk so low that he was her superior now? "Alright. Send me everything you've got."

"Let me know if you need anything," he offered, his tone gentler than it had been.

"I'll be fine," she assured him.

Renting a car was easy enough and she was soon on her way to the crime scene. If her hunch was correct, then it was going to be very important to find some connection between this attack and the previous two. Otherwise… Knowing that someone was copying old files would hardly be an advantage if it didn't provide a means for predicting more such acts.

Several years ago, SHIELD was destroyed. They were corrupted by HYDRA and Sharon had immediately sided with Captain America. Steve. Not because she had any particular loyalty to him, or strong feelings about him at the time, but because she knew what he stood for. What she knew made him a hero with or without the outfit. Why she was certain he was still out there, doing some good where ever he could, while her bosses and even more powerful people tried to hunt him down. They were wrong about him, about everything, if they thought he was just a vigilante who should be stopped.

More relevantly, the loss of SHIELD had been accompanied by Natasha Romanoff uploading all their secrets to the internet. This had already proved to be ill-advised because of what Zemo had been able to do with that information. Now the CIA, and presumably other intelligence organizations, had increased staff to pour over these documents in search of any other unforeseen weaknesses.

That someone might just pick assassinations at random to replicate had not occurred to anyone. And would be very difficult to stop. What could they do, just warn everyone who met the description of someone who had been assassinated before? That wasn't feasible or particularly useful.

The files Tapper had sent her had the suspect list highlighted, she noticed after she'd parked at her destination. Since the original crimes had happened decades apart, they only had one name in common – the Winter Soldier. She snorted. People attributed any unsolvable case to him, up to and including the Kennedy Assassination. Probably not much of a lead there, she thought, then headed inside.


	3. A Dead Calm Before the Storm

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **A Dead Calm Before the Storm**

Questioning the staff at the senator's house didn't provide any new information. Sharon had already found a similar case from some thirty years ago, though that senator had been shot instead of sustaining a head injury. She made the usual promises to the family of their safety and that the real killer would soon be caught. Not that she could guarantee any of those things, but it was unlikely that the attacker would return.

She had a place in Washington and decided to stop off there while she did her research instead of staying in more hotels. It was the apartment next door to Steve Rogers' former residence and she found herself lingering in the doorway. There was no way he would be hiding out there, she knew. The few messages he had gotten through to her since disappearing gave no clue as to his whereabouts, but surely this was one of the first places they would look?

Public opinion varied on whether Captain America should be in prison, but she had no doubt that people would talk about it if they spotted him somewhere. It made her nervous. She had done the right thing, helping him go after Barnes. And then after Zemo. And he had done the best he could in both circumstances. Still, even if she had disagreed with the methods of her superiors, lives had been lost that might not have been otherwise. So things didn't look good for Steve's eventual return.

Shaking her head to push those thoughts away, she unlocked her door and headed inside. The place was dusty and the food was all expired, so it took her a few hours to make it livable again. When it looked more like it had three years ago, she settled down to check in. Another progress report to her superiors and several return emails occupied her evening. It was late and she decided she could go to bed and continue to look for connections between the cases in the morning.

* * *

It had been a habit, when she'd lived here before, to eat breakfast near the National Mall. That was mainly because Steve ran in the mornings and she needed a place to discreetly keep an eye on him. Not that she was solely responsible for him – he was at work most of the time and had plenty of other people to watch his back. But she knew his habits when he was at home, and following her own orders meant not letting him get too far out of her sight.

The food truck was still there despite her long absence and she enjoyed reminiscing about a time when she had been glad to work for the company her great aunt had founded. Working for the CIA wasn't quite the same, even if the jobs themselves were quite similar. But maybe she had enjoyed it more for the first two years, before hunting down Captain America became an implicit part of the job. Cap and the other escaped Avengers. The last six months had taken some of the fun out of what she did.

After breakfast, she returned home and paused at the door. It looked untouched but something felt different. It was a good thing she had the foresight to bring her firearm with her before leaving this morning, she reflected as she slowly turned the key in the lock. Then she kicked hard and took cover against the wall beside the frame.

Silence. Carefully, she peered into the room, her kitchen, and saw nothing changed from how she'd left it. Still, paranoia was often justified for someone in her line of work, so she moved quietly forward, intent on searching the whole place before assuming her feelings were unfounded.

"Good morning, Nurse Kate," a familiar voice broke her concentration, and she whipped around to find Natasha Romanoff standing in her doorway.

"What are you doing here?" she asked warily, not lowering her weapon.

Romanoff smiled at her. "I gave up on waiting and went out for coffee," she explained, holding up a cup. As if that explained anything.

"What do you want?" Sharon tried again.

"May I come in?"

If the Black Widow wanted to do something to her, it wouldn't matter whether she invited her in or not. Sharon was a good agent, one of the best, but she wasn't Romanoff. "Alright," she relented, holstering her gun.

Romanoff's expression remained much the same, but Sharon thought she looked a tad pleased as she stepped inside and shut the door behind her. "I didn't know what you liked, so I didn't get you anything," she said as she walked over to the kitchen counter and sat down on one of the stools.

"I'll live," Sharon replied, leaning against the wall where she had a good view of the other woman. Upon closer inspection, she looked a little worse for wear. Like she'd been in some kind of accident. It didn't seem wise to comment on that, however, so she waited silently.

"So, what brings you back home?"

"Work."

"No time for pleasantries before we get down to business, I take it?" For the first time since arriving, Romanoff's smile faded and she looked away. "Alright. I, uh, I need some help."

Sharon reflected that the other woman had been on the run for months, having lost SHIELD a few years ago, and then the Avengers more recently. What had she been up to all this time? There was speculation, but Sharon had expected Romanoff to have no trouble landing on her feet. Her needing help was quite a surprise.

"With what?"

"I need to find out where Steve is. Figured you might know."

Sharon watched her carefully, trying to determine her motives. "Why would I tell you?"

A slight frown appeared between Romanoff's eyebrows. "Don't you know why I haven't shown my face in public lately? I tased the King of Wakanda so your boyfriend and his buddy could go save the world," she said with some bitterness.

"I know. I also know you wouldn't have come here without something to offer me."

That made Romanoff's smile return. "I always knew you were one of the good ones. Unfortunately, my connections are too valuable in my current position to share with authorities such as yourself."

Sharon folded her arms across her chest. "Then why are you here?"

Romanoff looked away again and was silent for several minutes. "Because… Because I need to know that the Winter Soldier isn't working again."

* * *

It had taken every ounce her strength to keep the car on the road and moving forward. Mr. Aksoy was still babbling, and she paid enough attention to realize he wasn't saying anything important. They needed to ditch the car, but had no way of knowing how close their assailant was. So she forced the car along, mile after mile, until it seemed like the danger had passed. And maybe it had.

Finally, they'd reached the next town and left the car behind, stealing a new one. As soon as they were safely isolated, she'd grabbed Mr. Aksoy by the throat and demanded an explanation. After a great deal of crying and dissembling on his part, he had admitted that he'd been paid to employ her, but he knew nothing else. The methods used to hook him were as untraceable as the ones he'd used to hire her.

How could they have found her? She'd been so careful. Who were they? And why put her through events to similar to the ones before? It wasn't the same road, but it was enough to remind her of what had happened outside Odessa all those years ago. She dropped Mr. Aksoy off at Kurhan, as expected. His masters could do what they wanted with him – he was of no further use to her. She'd made sure of that.

Now what? She could flee back to her cabin, but it didn't feel very safe right now. Even if the only breach she could be sure of was digital. Still, running felt like a good idea, so she got on the nearest plane and let it fly her where ever it was going. After a few days of that tactic, she was tired. And needed information. Her current resources would not allow her to investigate the matter further, and even the most reputable sources she had were still under the table.

It had occurred to her that Steve and his friends couldn't have made their escape quite so effective if they were completely on their own. There were any number of people who might have felt some loyalty to Captain America himself, but only one person she thought would be upright and righteous enough to act against the wishes of the United Nations. One person besides Steve, of course.

Sharon Carter had managed to keep her job at the CIA, after paying due penance. And would certainly have a great deal more access to intel than any of Natasha's other available sources. It seemed like she could at least be trusted not to turn her in immediately. After some effort, Natasha was able to crack where Sharon was sending emails from, but not what they contained (which might have been a much safer substitute). It was apparent that the woman was on the move, but Natasha managed to get herself to DC before Sharon could leave again.

Now there was just the matter of convincing her to help track down who had attacked her outside of Odessa. It wasn't the Winter Soldier, clearly, unless being controlled again had a significantly negative effect on his abilities. But the similarity of the act made her convinced that it was supposed to bring up what had happened before, and that couldn't lead to anything she wanted to revisit.


	4. Not a Sound from Their Engines

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Not a Sound from Their Engines**

Sharon managed to hide her surprise, but only barely. She had mostly dismissed Tapper's suggestion that the Winter Soldier was really to blame for all the cases that had been popping up. But if Romanoff thought so, too… Well, it was unlikely that both of them would be wrong. Still, it wasn't like she should share her suspicions with a fugitive agent.

"What would give you that idea?" she asked innocently.

Romanoff certainly saw through the expression, but didn't comment on it. "Let's just say someone went to a great deal of trouble to remind me of him."

"Why?"

"I have no idea," she replied with a cool smile. "That's why I want to talk to Steve."

Frowning slightly, Sharon cocked her head. "I thought all Steve's information on the Winter Soldier came from you."

For some reason, that made Romanoff's eyes light up. "There wasn't much I could give him. I'm sure he spent more time than is wise trying to get his hands on something additional before events transpired to send him the man himself practically gift-wrapped. That was just luck, though, right?" she added with a grin.

It took a moment to process what Romanoff was implying, and Sharon was forced to hide surprise again. "I can assure you I've just been doing my job."

"Yes, of course. You were under orders to leak sensitive information to Steve so he'd act rashly and make things messier."

Sharon regarded her, considering an unprecedented amount of bitterness in the other woman's voice. "You've been an agent a long time. You've seen what can happen when we try to bring in an enhanced person. You know better than most what that man is capable of. Steve was the only one who could have brought him in safely. Ross was a fool for not realizing that."

Romanoff appeared to be mulling this over, so Sharon turned away to make some coffee. The activity would distract her from her anger and hopefully the caffeine would help her deal with this situation a little better. It would do no good to tick off a superior agent. Unexpectedly, Romanoff joined her only moments later, making them some toast as well.

"I haven't eaten much lately," she confessed with an almost conspiratorial smile. "It's hard to focus on food when everyone you know no longer trusts you because of some hotheaded men."

"Amen," Sharon responded emphatically.

They ate their breakfast, though by now it was more like lunch, in companionable silence. She didn't know what Romanoff was thinking about, but Sharon was considering what it must have been like to be in the Avengers when all this happened. Particularly so soon after losing SHIELD. What would have happened to her if the CIA had let her go? Being locked up was something she had known full well was a possibility going in. But just to be fired? To have no place to go? The thought was chilling in a way that prison would not have been. She had a feeling Romanoff felt the same way.

"So. What happened?" she asked when Romanoff had finished her third slice of toast. The light coming through the closed shades was enough to show that the woman had definitely been through something. There was bruising and cuts on her face and hands, and Sharon could imagine the rest of her was no different.

"Car accident." She drank the last of her coffee swiftly, like one would take a shot. "Just like the one, years ago, when the Winter Soldier sent me off a cliff."

A memory struck her at that. She could recall people in SHIELD talking about the Winter Soldier, blaming him for any case they couldn't solve. Most didn't believe in him, treating it as a joke. But she had heard the rumors that Romanoff herself believed in him, and wouldn't she know? Being Russian and all. That's how those conversations usually ended. Sharon had been skeptical of his existence until events left no room for doubt. Though she still felt his prolificacy was overestimated, particularly in older cases.

"You look pretty good for going over a cliff."

Romanoff snorted. "Well, fortunately for me, it wasn't an exact recreation."

"You know, after the SHIELD files were released to the public, anyone could have read them," Sharon began.

"Yeah, so anyone could be copying any case they want. And it's probably just an annoying coincidence. I should just continue working like I was and be wary of accepting any jobs near Odessa, in case it becomes something everyone wants to try out. Is that what you think?"

The expression on Romanoff's face had a hint of the bitterness she'd heard in her voice earlier. "No," she answered slowly.

When she didn't continue, Romanoff raised an eyebrow and leaned back in her chair to regard her. "There have been other cases," she said flatly after a moment.

"There are always other cases," Sharon insisted dismissively, but she couldn't fool one of the greatest spies in the world.

Romanoff got to her feet with a smile. "I'm looking forward to hearing all about them. Now, however, I have some things to take care of. You have some work to do to keep the boss from getting suspicious. They don't trust you completely yet, do they?" she asked, putting a hand on Sharon's shoulder. "Don't worry. I do." With that, she headed out the door, pausing in the frame to look back with a grin. "I won't stop for a beer with the fellas, I'll be home for dinner," she promised, then left without another sound.

Sharon considered going after her, but figured there would be no point in that. The Black Widow had not been seen or heard from in months. She had always been effective at disappearing completely. And she fully expected her to return in a few hours.

So, what to do until then? Should she run? It appeared that she'd given the other woman some trouble in tracking her down, so that might work. Should she alert General Ross to her whereabouts? Set up a trap? Or should she just wait and have someone to collaborate on this case with her?

That seemed unwise. After all the difficulty she'd had getting them to take her off desk duty, surely she wasn't going to violate procedure again? She could just gather information. Find out exactly what had happened near Odessa and see what she could do without involving Romanoff any further. It would be better for both of them. Her bosses would not be pleased if she included someone else in the investigation, regardless of how useful a source they might be.

Except… Well, she didn't know Romanoff very well. They'd never been on a case together when they both worked for SHIELD, although they did see each other from time to time, mainly at the gym. But she knew her reputation. And apparently Romanoff knew hers. There had been a professional courtesy in Berlin, even before they'd worked together to try to bring the Winter Soldier down.

There was no reason to involve Romanoff in this, she assured herself. But she couldn't escape the feeling that, but for some luck and maybe even some nepotism, she would be in the same boat. Romanoff had chosen the side that wouldn't put her in a prison. It wasn't clear why she'd changed her mind later, but she had let Steve and Barnes go. Sharon had done the same twice before her, and remained relatively unpunished while Romanoff had lost everything.

That wasn't right. And maybe a chance to acquit herself was all the Romanoff needed to get back into Ross's good graces. If she hadn't chosen to flee, she might have just gotten some kind of slap on the wrist and been allowed to keep working. The Avengers team roster was looking pretty thin these days, after all.

Sharon got up from the table and headed for her laptop. First things first, look for evidence to corroborate Romanoff's story. The woman was an accomplished spy, after all. Then, well… Aunt Peggy had always been willing to give people second chances, and she would certainly be on the side of helping the first female Avenger. So, if it was what Aunt Peggy would do, what could go wrong?


	5. From the Other Side, Saw a Shooting Star

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **From the Other Side, Saw a Shooting Star at 4:22 AM**

That Sharon Carter might not help her had never entered Natasha's mind. At least, not consciously. She would certainly agree that Steve deserved to know about a potential Winter Soldier imitator. With the real thing having vanished as thoroughly as he had after SHIELD fell (or, really, any other point in history), crimes that fit his MO would be blamed on him, leading to events similar enough to what had happened with Tony. So nipping this in the bud was going to be a high priority for all of them.

While she had waited in Sharon's apartment for her to return from her breakfast, Natasha had done some snooping. Old case files were open on her computer, and getting access to them required only a couple tries. It appeared that the incident near Odessa was not the only one being replicated. That was concerning but helpful to Natasha. It would convince Sharon, and later Steve, that something was really going on. And it wasn't just her current circumstances making her overly paranoid.

She had given up on waiting and gone to get some coffee, which was of course when Sharon returned. But that didn't matter. She had little trouble persuading the CIA agent to include her in the case, and left to give the woman some time to think it was all her idea. Natasha had her own safe houses all around the country, though she had been hesitant to revisit any of them recently. Still, she had the opportunity and wouldn't be there long.

It was an apartment in an old building, which she liked. That made it feel more solid than she felt in new architecture. The whole time she'd been in the Avengers' facility, she'd felt a bit off-center. Not that such unease in any way compared to how it had been since she'd been forced to leave there, of course.

To get there, she took a few different taxis, backtracking and looping. There was little danger of her being followed, but she hadn't survived this long by being careless. While she rode, she thought about her conversation with Sharon Carter. They hadn't worked together during their tenure at SHIELD, but she knew her. She had known that Steve's neighbor was likely an agent sent to look after him, and was tickled when he seemed interested in her.

Steve, of course, hid his interest as he did anything personal – under layers and layers of duty-bound persona. But she'd gotten through eventually. And done her homework on all of the agents who were assigned to be around Steve. Although there were things she had missed, she thought bitterly about Rumlow and his ilk.

In any case, Steve and Sharon had spent some of the intervening time together and Natasha had no idea how far along their relationship might have progressed before Steve had to disappear. Thus, she had a feeling that suggesting meeting up with him again would be another mark in her favor, as Sharon was unlikely to make an attempt without good reason. And Natasha let herself be distracted by the thought of how interesting it would be to see them together again.

She knew that Sharon had helped him. Well, strongly suspected – and she had practically admitted to it. But, from her reputation, Natasha did not think Sharon would be easily swayed by Captain America or his physical attributes. But perhaps the agent was a better fit for him than she had previously considered. When she'd suggested he ask her out, she'd really just meant for him to try dating someone, really anyone.

As the taxi pulled up close enough to Natasha's old home for her to walk the rest of the way, she considered that she was hardly the person to be doling out that kind of advice. After SHIELD had taken her in, Clint had suggested the same thing. And she'd taken it about as well as Steve had. Though she had dated a little, most regular men were boring. And dating fellow agents made things tricky. Especially if the team was tightknit, she thought wistfully. It was good that Steve and Tony had so obviously driven the team apart, or she might have blamed herself more for driving Bruce away. Having him around for the Accords and all that was unlikely to have ended well. Probably even worse than how it had.

Her apartment was much the same as she'd left it, though dustier. She scanned it thoroughly as well as the surrounding area and eventually deemed it still safe. Though she had every intention of staying at Sharon's for the foreseeable future, it was important to have an escape plan. Several, in fact. After realizing that there were options for her besides what her masters in the Red Room wanted, it had taken some time to escape from there. And, since then, she always felt safest if there was a clear way to leave.

Satisfied with her old home, she headed back to Sharon's, again taking a circuitous route. Her goal for the evening was to convince Sharon to arrange a meet with Steve, as soon as possible. There were whispers of heroic acts performed by enhanced individuals but never enough to go on. Nothing specific enough to signify it was the fugitive half of the Avengers at work. But she didn't think Steve would take inactivity very well, so he was certainly still doing something with himself. Finding him probably wouldn't have been that much of a challenge, if she'd stirred herself to look for him in earnest, particularly since she had a good idea of who had the expertise to help him out.

But Sharon had much better resources, and possibly knew how to find him quickly. And then would be able to get to the bottom of all of this much faster than Natasha ever could on her own. If she was even able to spare the time to do so. Staying hidden and working took up most of her faculties at the moment.

"Lucy, I'm home," Natasha called as she opened Sharon's door. She had, of course, done some checking to make sure it wasn't a trap. But it was no surprise to find the woman there alone.

Sharon was seated on her couch and raised an eyebrow when she entered. "I didn't make dinner."

Shaking her head sadly, Natasha sat down on the other couch, perpendicular to the one on which Sharon was sitting. "After I slave all day to pay for your clothes, you could at least have dinner on the table when I get home."

"If dinner was on the table, it would be getting cold," Sharon replied, not looking up from her laptop again.

Dropping the bit, Natasha leaned forward. "Find anything out?"

"Not that I am at liberty to share."

She smirked as she got to her feet again. "Fine. I'm going to order pizza. Got any vodka?"

"Top cupboard."

Heading for the kitchen, Natasha used her phone to make the order and poured herself a shot while she waited. It was the good stuff and she drank it a bit more slowly than she normally would have. Then she went back to see what Sharon was up to.

"So, any new cases?"

Sharon shut her laptop, looking thoughtful. "I don't think so. And I haven't been able to find a connection between any of the ones we have."

"Except who did them."

Waving off that idea, Sharon got up and went to the kitchen, where she poured her own drink. "There are hundreds of cases that have him as a suspect. And yours is the only one with an eyewitness that I can find, so there's no way of knowing how many were actually him."

There was truth to that statement. If it weren't for her personal experience, she might have disbelieved the files, too. And she knew he had been trained to operate under a variety of circumstances, so it wasn't like finding his MO was easy or particularly helpful. "So we're stuck?" she asked, following her.

Sharon frowned at that. "Of course not. Just delayed."

"Alright." Natasha filled both of their glasses. "What do you propose we do next?"

"I don't remember inviting you along."

Grinning, she took a drink. "What are you going to do next, then, Agent?"

After studying her glass for a few moments, Sharon looked up. "I don't know," she admitted.

"Well, you know what would be best, right?" Natasha asked nonchalantly.

"What?"

"Questioning the Winter Soldier himself, of course. He would be able to tell us which ones were really him."

Sharon digested that. "Are you sure? I mean, Zemo clearly had control of him when he attacked us. And he didn't recognize anyone. So I don't know that we can assume he would remember anything. What's the matter?"

Natasha realized she must have let more show on her face than she'd intended. "Nothing," she said quickly. "I just, well, you know, don't like thinking about the many times I've almost been killed."

"Oh, right. Sorry."

She looked so genuinely apologetic that Natasha had to look away. "You don't think it's worth a shot?" she asked finally. Now was not the time to delve into her personal feelings on this or any matter.

"I suppose. But I'm sure neither of us are too excited to be in the same room as him again. So maybe we can just tell Steve and he'll pass things along."

The disappointment she felt at the suggestion was certainly unfounded – it was a logical next step that wouldn't require anyone to reveal their hiding places, and give Sharon at least a shred of plausible deniability. "Sounds great," she answered belatedly, aware that the other woman had been watching her closely while she thought.

"Great. I'll send him a message to call, then."

Natasha remained in the living room while Sharon disappeared into her bedroom to contact Steve somehow. It was a relief when the pizza arrived so at least she had something to do besides think back over their conversation and try to figure out how she should have turned it to lead Sharon to insist on a face-to-face meeting. And then why that was so important to her.

Refilling their drinks and plating the pizza apparently took all the time Sharon needed, because then she returned. There was the hint of a smile on her face, which was adorable, Natasha thought. They carried their dinner to the table and settled down to eat.

"So, why did you become a spy?" Natasha asked conversationally.

Sharon seemed surprised by the directness of a question. "My aunt. Well, great aunt. She told me a lot of stories of being an agent during the war, and after. I was impressed."

"Your –" Natasha stopped, staring at her. Sharon Carter. Steve must have gotten intel right after Margaret Carter's funeral. Intel from Sharon. She couldn't believe her stupidity at not realizing it sooner. "Your great aunt is Peggy Carter?"

"Yes. I tend not to tell anyone about it, though. I don't like special treatment," Sharon insisted in a tone that made it clear she knew what she was talking about.

That put a wrinkle in things, as far as Steve was concerned, Natasha thought. "Does Steve know?" she asked, assessing Sharon's reaction.

"Not till the funeral. I couldn't really avoid it there, since he was in the front row and I gave the eulogy."

"Yes, that would be unavoidable," she said distantly, digesting the fact. Was that weird for Steve? Maybe. The poor guy didn't need another excuse to avoid dealing with his issues and having a normal life.

"Why did you become a spy?" Sharon asked, interrupting her thoughts.

She smiled wanly. "Oh, I'm afraid I had little choice in the matter."

A flicker of concern crossed Sharon's face. "I see. Well, why are you still a spy, then?"

"I'm good at it. Don't know what else I'd do, frankly."

"I understand."

From her wistful expression, Natasha could see that she did. She turned their conversation to less personal topics while they waited, and Sharon didn't resist. Though she did want to know more about Sharon's personal life, if only to find out what she could expect where Steve was concerned. But she would just enjoy the surprise, one of the few pleasant ones in her life lately.


	6. A Warning Shot from the Rhythm Demons

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **A Warning Shot from the Rhythm Demons**

Steve wasn't expecting a message. The day had started out much the same as every day before it had. Their base was small and well hidden in the woods, but he could go for a run in the mornings before everyone else woke up. Then he joined Clint and Sam in the briefing room, and they looked for work. They also, of course, checked to make sure their headquarters was continuing to be unmonitored.

Clint hadn't said how he knew about this place, but Steve could guess – Fury. The man himself had not resurfaced lately, not since being presumed dead. But there was little likelihood of anyone else setting up this small HQ in such a perfect way for what Steve and his people wanted to do. It was the five of them – Steve, Sam, Clint, Wanda, Scott. He'd broken them out after entrusting Bucky to King T'Challa. The only one he'd told anything about that to was Sam, and the rest hadn't asked. Clint had said he knew of somewhere they could go, something Steve had mostly been counting on, and they'd been here ever since.

Everyone had their own room, which was important. He wasn't sure he could ask them to stay for long if that wasn't the case. Not that any of them did stay for very long – there was always something they could do instead of waiting around here. They all had a hope that, if they did enough good without causing any casualties, it would help their cases in the long run. Maybe even enough to make up for their crimes.

But who knew? Some days Steve thought about turning himself in, maybe getting his friends a reduced sentence by insisting it was all his idea. Which was true. But there hadn't been any talk about length of sentence for them before, and he wasn't so naïve as to assume that the unjust nature of their imprisonment would forgive their escape. Things would have to change on a larger scale before the group of fugitives could show their faces again.

So, they stayed in the shadows. Clint adapted to that the easiest, despite being away from his family, but the rest made do. It was better than being in prison by a long shot, and working together made it seem, sometimes, like nothing had changed at all. Steve tried not to dwell on that, but things had changed so quickly he had a hard time remembering it sometimes. Especially when he'd just woken up.

Running helped clear his head, and Steve liked being able to start his days that way. Then he'd shower and meet Clint, who would relay any messages they may have gotten recently. Clint had ways of communicating that wouldn't endanger any of them, so he was in charge of these things. Everyone had a job, which was important to boost morale.

"Morning," Steve said as he walked through the door of the briefing room. Sam wasn't there yet and Clint was staring intently at the screen.

"Hey, Cap," he answered belatedly. "I think you'd better take a look at this."

His good mood disappeared quickly at the seriousness of Clint's tone, and he moved to look over Clint's shoulder.

During the war, getting messages across great distances was very important. The technology used to send the message wasn't particularly effective at keeping it from slipping into the wrong hands, unlike today. So codes were heavily employed. Steve had learned quite a few different ciphers by the end as well as several languages. When he looked at the screen, he was startled to find a cipher he hadn't seen in many years.

"I tried cracking it, but nothing seems to be working," Clint explained.

Steve chuckled. "I'm sure you would have figured it out eventually. If you'd known it was in French," he added.

"French?"

"Yeah. It's from Sharon." Clint didn't seem to think that explained matters sufficiently, but Steve was too busy reading to notice. The message wasn't very long, and certainly much more to the point than he might have liked for the first communication between them in a few months. Pretty much since the first one, when Clint had helped him set up a way for her to contact them.

Repeated contact was dangerous for both of them, so it was obviously not an intelligent thing to do. And he'd almost convinced himself not to miss someone he'd hardly gotten to know before their forced separation. He was glad to hear from her, even in serious circumstances.

"She says I need to call her securely. Are we set up for that?" he asked, realizing Clint had been watching him.

"Sure, Cap. When?"

"As soon as possible."

Clint nodded, and got to work.

* * *

It was stupid to be nervous. Well, it was stupid to be nervous for the reasons he was feeling nervous. She could very well be going to tell him something that would justify his nervousness. But he couldn't push the thought away so he looked through their other messages and briefings to see if there was anything that needed to be done. Sam came in while he was in the midst of this, and he explained quickly what was happening. Always efficient, Sam joined him and they took care of a few issues before Clint finished.

"It's ready," he announced. "I'll be outside if you need anything."

"I'll see if breakfast is ready," Sam said, saying in his own way that he was available to help.

"Thanks," Steve replied as nonchalantly as he could. Maybe he was successful, maybe not. But soon they were gone and the phone was ringing. Well, something was ringing, anyway. Sharon's face appeared on the screen and he smiled. "Hey."

"Hey. You got my message?" she asked.

"Yeah. Wasn't much to it."

Her smile was lovely. "Well, it's been a long time since Aunt Peggy taught me those codes, so I wasn't sure I could pull off a longer letter."

"It was perfect," he assured her.

"Thank you."

The troubled look that appeared on her face made him skip further pleasantries. "Where are you? What's going on?"

She paused, glancing away for a moment. "DC. At my old apartment. Listen, Steve… There have been some cases lately that are… concerning."

"You're still with the CIA? What kind of cases?"

"Yeah. I did desk duty for a while but I'm back in the field."

He waited but she didn't continue, looking somewhere else again. It seemed like someone was talking to her, but he couldn't hear anything. "Sharon?"

"Look, it seems like someone is digging up old jobs your friend did and recreating them."

"What? Why?" he asked, incredulous.

Her expression was sympathetic as she met his eye. "I don't know. I was hoping I might be able to ask him."

"Bucky's not here," he said flatly.

"I know. He's somewhere safe. But people are getting killed and I don't have any leads. Except the Winter Soldier being tied to it somehow. I don't think that's an accident, Steve."

"So, what, they're trying to flush him out again like in Berlin?" he wanted to know.

She shrugged. "Or trying to pin more on him, make him, and you, look bad. Maybe it's just a coincidence, but it doesn't feel like it."

"What were the cases?"

Obligingly, she disappeared for a moment and returned with a case file. She told him about the American senator in his pool, the former KGB official on the beach, the old French ambassador in Algiers. He'd read everything he could find about the Winter Soldier after he'd found out he was Bucky. And those cases were at least a little familiar. Still…

"Are you sure it's him? None of those were proven. Not in the HYDRA files, or the Russian ones we found. Could be nothing," he suggested.

She pursed her lips. "That's what I thought."

"Until?"

She was looking away again, raising an eyebrow. Then she handed whatever device the camera was on to someone else. Steve blinked in surprise as Natasha Romanoff's face came into view. Her expression very briefly showed her distaste at being revealed, or perhaps at what she was about to say, but then she returned to her usual confident smirk.

"Hi, Steve."

"Nat," he replied levelly, hiding his incredulity. What was she doing with Sharon?

"Remember when I told you about the first time I met your best friend?"

"Outside Odessa." He said it gently but he thought she might have winced at the memory.

She nodded. "I was on a job there recently and you'll never guess what happened."

"Someone shot out your tires."

Her smile was bitter but approving. "Well, they tried. Not quite as good a marksman as the original, but they got pretty damn close to repeating the experience for me. It wasn't in the file. At least, not in mine."

"What do you want me to do, Nat?"

"I want you to let Sharon question Barnes."


	7. Or from the Guitar Preacher

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Or from the Guitar Preacher**

After the call with Sharon and Nat, Steve sat motionless in the briefing room for some time, considering. Long enough that Sam came in to check on him.

"Hey, Cap. Things are piling up that need your approval. You going to be ready sometime soon?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Do you think Bucky would be upset if I woke him up already?" Steve replied distantly.

Sam shut the door quietly. "Why would you need to do that?"

"Someone's copying his work. Sharon wasn't convinced until Nat showed up."

"Natasha Romanoff?" Sam clarified, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah. She was there, told me about an attack like one Bucky did before. She says the new guy isn't as good as Bucky, though. If that matters."

Sam snorted. "Well, it's probably good news," he muttered, rubbing his jaw absently.

A grim smile crossed Steve's lips. "Probably. Sharon wants to question Bucky."

"About what?"

"About what his other jobs were, so she can predict and stop future attacks. Maybe he'll know who would have details on his work."

Sam was considering this and Steve waited patiently. There was a reason Sam was his second-in-command. "You sure this isn't like the Zemo thing?"

"That's what I thought. But none of the cases are all that high-profile, comparatively. The news isn't blaming him and no one seems to have linked them together except Sharon. So I don't think it's a very good plan, if they're depending on someone connecting the dots to lead back to him."

"Whatever you say, man. If Sharon thinks it's safe to take him out of hiding, then it is," he added in response to Steve's worried expression. "Besides, there'll be the three of you. I'm sure you can keep him from getting into trouble while he's out."

"I suppose." Steve remembered with a sick feeling that the book Bucky had spoken of, the one Zemo had used to control him, hadn't been found when they captured Zemo. So hopefully they could take him down if it came to that, keep him from hurting anyone else. Otherwise he'd never want to be awoken again.

"Listen, Cap. If you think it would be better to send one of our people to help them chase this guy down, we can. Barton would be a good choice."

Steve could admit to himself that he wanted to see them again. But he wouldn't let that cloud his judgment. Sharon had sent him copies of the cases, along with a description of what happened to Nat. So what he should do is read them over and see if there was anything he could offer before dragging Bucky into this. His brow furrowed as he studied the files, vaguely aware of Sam remaining nearby, but getting to work on something else.

"I think they're at a dead end. There are too many cases to sift through to guess what the assassin might choose for a next target. And Bucky could help them."

"He'd like that," Sam offered when Steve fell silent.

"Yeah. He would. And there are some real nasty things attributed to the Winter Soldier. He'd… he'd hate it if we let him sleep while more happened."

Sam nodded. "I'll send word to his hosts. Go get ready. I can hold down the fort."

"Thank you," Steve said, relieved.

"Take care of yourself. Tell Natasha hello for me," he added with a grin.

Steve returned the expression. "She's always pestering me to be interested in dating, might as well return the favor, right?"

"You bet your ass. Get a move on."

* * *

He'd been asleep. He didn't know for how long. His first thoughts were relief at finally being warm again. This reminded him that he'd been cold, which reminded him that he'd been dreaming. Some of the dreams were pleasant. Most were not. The pleasant ones were about life in Brooklyn before the war. They were probably true. The unpleasant ones were about killing people. Those were probably true, too.

There were people around him. That was normal. He didn't want to look at them. Maybe they would go away if he didn't open his eyes. Then he could sleep for real. Instead of the stasis that wasn't really sleep. It always left a bad taste in his mouth; metallic, like he'd bitten his tongue. Though this time was different – he had dreamed when he normally did not. Or maybe they'd done something to make him remember, and they weren't dreams at all.

He was agitated. More people were coming close to him, which didn't help. They spoke to him, said comforting things in English, then said less comforting things to each other in a language he didn't know. There was someone near his left arm. He didn't like that. He didn't know why but that was not a good place to be. Something in him tried to push the people away but his movements were slow, sluggish, and that was far more upsetting than anything else.

"Go to sleep," someone said near his ear and he felt a pinprick in his right arm. Then he complied.

* * *

Bucky Barnes was in a bed. A real bed, not a hospital bed. Something felt different about himself. Taking stock of his body, he realized his left arm was a new one. It was lighter than the old one had been, and there was no star on his shoulder. Its blankness gave him pause for some reason. Otherwise he felt much the same as when he'd gone under. He wondered how much time had passed.

There was a knock on the door and he stared at it, bewildered, for a few moments before remembering what to do. "Come in," he said, almost as a question, his voice hoarse.

"Oh, good, you're up," Steve commented as he came into the room, grinning despite the seriousness of his tone.

"Steve." The relief on his face must have shown because Steve laughed.

"Yeah, it's me. Sorry to wake you."

He did seem quite apologetic. Good old Steve, always shouldering the blame for everything. "It's fine."

Steve walked over hesitantly, looking down at his arm. "Looks good."

"Yeah. It's lighter," Bucky replied, holding it up for Steve to see better, and to test how it worked. "Hopefully not weaker."

"They tell me it's vibranium, like my shield. So it should be plenty strong."

"Oh."

Raising an eyebrow, Steve sat down in the chair by the bed. It was the only chair. Bucky sat up a little more and was surprised by a wave of exhaustion. Usually he didn't need much rest after, well, being asleep for a long time. Well, maybe that was more a result of his handlers than anything else. They were uninterested in giving him a break before sending him to work. It was a rare and appreciated job that had allowed him to get any real sleep during those long decades.

"What is it, Buck?"

Focusing was difficult sometimes. "We're in Wakanda."

"Yes."

"King T'Challa brought us here."

"Yes."

"Why?"

Steve frowned, looking at him searchingly. "You don't remember?"

There were too many memories to sift through. That was the problem. Not having any would be preferable, he thought bitterly. But, no, that wasn't true. He was all too aware of what having no memories was like. Even the new ones, violent as they were, were good for him to keep. He wanted to know who he really was.

"He… He found out the truth about what happened to his father and wanted to make up for trying to kill me."

The worry lines on Steve's face eased. "Exactly!"

"Why did they make me a new arm?"

The worry lines were back. That wasn't good. "It wasn't made just for you. I just… explained the situation and T'Challa suggested it."

He straightened and looked Steve up and down appraisingly. "What kind of situation do I need a new arm for?"

Steve stood up abruptly. "Hopefully you won't. But it's better if you can defend yourself. If something happens."

"Steve."

Seeing the expression on Bucky's face, Steve smiled grimly. "I'll explain on the way. We've got a date."

"Fine," he grumbled, and got out of bed.


	8. I've Been Touched by Both

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **I've Been Touched by Both**

Natasha was an agent first and foremost, and personal feelings came second. So if preventing further bloodshed meant seeing someone she wasn't keen on seeing again, that was what she would do. It would be worth it to find out what they could about these seemingly random imitations of attacks, and hopefully find out who could be doing this. There weren't that many people who would know about the Winter Soldier's past work in detail.

Of course, it could be simply random. The fact that her own experience was something that would be hard to find out about didn't overrule the idea that someone was just picking events to copy. It could be several people. Barnes was still a fugitive for breaking out of custody, though someone had downplayed that in the intervening months. Maybe Tony, who knew? But he remained a fugitive and occasional feature in the news cycle even now. Someone picking through the SHIELD files she'd dumped online to amass those blamed on the Winter Soldier wasn't a stretch.

There was also the fact that Barnes might know nothing of note. Who knew what was going on in that head of his? The only thing that he'd obviously known in Berlin was his nickname. He hadn't wanted to talk about any of his history with HYDRA, which was understandable but could indicate he didn't have access to any details. She certainly wasn't holding out hope that he would remember anything.

Which begged the question of why she was here. Maybe she'd just been out in the cold for too long. Maybe she was being blinded by her desire to work on a team again. Maybe she should have just sought out Clint instead and he'd talk some sense into her. He'd been there the first time she'd been attacked outside of Odessa, after all. And talked her down from a growing obsession to find her assailant. He could probably do so again.

She told herself that this seemed to be a real problem, that the attacks were coming in rapid succession and she should be here to provide valuable intelligence that even Sharon might not know. Downtime on missions was usually spent reading SHIELD files and she could recall a great deal of them. Maybe, between her and Barnes, they could figure out how to keep more lives from being lost. Not that she was looking forward to working closely with him, for a variety of reasons, not least of which were his repeated attempts to kill her. His lack of success thus far was hardly reassuring.

"Natasha!"

Sharon's voice broke her reverie and she jumped. "Sorry," she said quickly.

The other woman raised an eyebrow. "Is everything okay?"

"Just, uh, thinking about whether this is the best idea or not."

Sharon shrugged. "I'm out of ideas or we wouldn't be doing this." She waved to the train around them eloquently. "If we had any… easier resources, we would be questioning them instead. But your Mr. Aksoy is the only living person we know of being involved. And I'm sure he has no further information to provide," she amended before Natasha could interject.

"As am I," she agreed with a cold smile. "I can just imagine a lot of ways for this to end badly."

That had obviously occurred to Sharon, because she looked out the window and bit her lip. "Me too. We'll just have to be careful. Oh!" She reached down into her bag and pulled out a slim leather pouch. "Just in case."

Natasha accepted it from her dubiously, glancing inside to find a syringe. "What is it?"

"Tranquilizer. I figured you should have it, since you got hands on him more than the rest of us last time."

"What an honor," Natasha replied sardonically.

Sharon quirked a smile. "The highest honor, I can assure you. Don't tell Steve," she added after a pause.

"Oh, I won't. I don't want him to know that we have a secret weapon in case he starts droning on about how things were in his day."

That made Sharon laugh. "I can't imagine Steve droning on," she admitted.

Natasha smiled. "You haven't heard his speeches?"

"Just the one. Does he give them often?"

She tucked the pouch into her belt and leaned back. "I am sure Steve gives himself a speech every morning when he gets out of bed. And throughout the day."

It was nice to see Sharon laugh. Steve needed someone a little more light-hearted than he tended to be. Though not too much. "Maybe he had to when he was in the war. To keep up morale," Sharon offered.

"Hmm. You don't think that's what the outfit was for?"

"You and I both know that clothes only can take you so far."

That made Natasha laugh. "Very good point. Our stop is coming up. You ready?"

Sharon looked a little nervous, and not about questioning the Soviet bogeyman. "Yeah."

"Let's go."

* * *

From the train, Sharon followed Natasha through a few alleys, on a couple cab rides, to finally arrive at one of the latter's safehouses. It was clearly a place that had not been used in years, which was one reason why they were there early. They did the usual checks to make sure it was still as safe as Natasha was clearly expecting it to be. Not that a person could ever really be sure of such a thing.

When they were finished, they settled down in the living room to wait. To occupy her mind, Sharon took stock of her surroundings. The couches were comfortable, if a little dusty, and the end tables were nice. There was a television in the corner while the walls were bare. The kitchen had been small and mostly empty – only a handful of dishes. There were two bedrooms, each with a couple of twin beds in them. So obviously this place had been used for missions in the past. Not just a secret place of Natasha's.

Should she really have expected the Black Widow to take her to one of her own safehouses? Probably not. There were plenty of SHIELD's around that were still under the radar enough for their purposes. And it was too much to ask the fugitive to give up any of her few remaining resources. Their meeting with Steve – and Barnes – would be safe enough. And hopefully brief. Barnes would almost certainly be anxious to return to hiding as soon as possible and she didn't blame him.

That also meant the amount of time she had with Steve would be minimal. Maybe that was good. She wouldn't have much chance to think about her feelings where he was concerned. There was work to do and this was no time to distracted by a pretty face. Or those arms. Or, perhaps most upsetting of all, how much she'd missed him.

"You okay over there?" Natasha asked, leaning back and regarding her with something like a smirk.

"I was just thinking that we should be alright for this interview, and then we can all go back to where we came from," was her calm reply.

The smirk faded. "I didn't realize you were so excited to get rid of me."

It was impossible to tell if Natasha was actually offended or not. "I'm more worried about Barnes," she insisted.

Some unnamed emotion crossed the other woman's face and then she looked grim. "Me too."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," she said quickly, though that was not the case. "It'll be nice to see Steve again."

"Yes," Natasha replied distantly. "Nice."

Shifting her weight, she waited until Natasha looked at her. "You don't have to be here for this. I can handle it on my own and I… can tell you what happened after." That was quite the concession. Romanoff wasn't an agent any longer and she shouldn't be promising to tell her what might be very sensitive information.

The other woman smiled. "I appreciate your concern. But I think I can be pretty useful here. I have a lot of, hmm, contacts that might become relevant."

Sharon nodded, seeing the wisdom in that. "Especially any in Russia. Hell, you might have been working for the same people for a while," she added with a grin.

The effect the joke had on Natasha was unexpected, but she had no time to question her about it because they were interrupted by a knock on the door. Natasha got up rather hastily to answer it, and Sharon took a deep breath to steady her nerves.


	9. And by the Holy Ghost

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **And by the Holy Ghost**

"You alright?" Steve asked.

Bucky realized he'd been rubbing his shoulder again. The new arm didn't hurt or anything, it just felt different. He was getting used to it. But probably attracting too much attention by touching it. "Yeah," he insisted again. Steve obviously didn't believe him, but turned to look out the window instead.

"We'll be there soon."

It was meant to be reassuring, but wasn't. He wished he could be asleep again, instead of having to face people he'd hurt. And be questioned about past victims. That was never something he would look forward to. But he did want to help. So he would just concentrate on that. It's what Steve would do.

Focusing on his friend, he realized he seemed uneasy. This set alarm bells off in his head and he glanced around the plane anxiously. There was nothing out of the ordinary that he could see, and he was fairly confident in his abilities to notice such a thing before Steve would. There had to be some other reason.

Oh. Right. Steve was never very good with girls and that hadn't changed even when the rest of him had. Bucky had hoped there would be some progress in that area over the years, but it would not surprise him at all if he was this worked up about seeing a girl. Though she'd have to be a special girl, to get Steve like this.

"Tell me about Sharon," he suggested, as if he needed a distraction.

Steve turned back to look at him with some color in his cheeks. "You met her. She saved our asses."

With a frown, Bucky waved that off. "I saw her. We didn't exchange pleasantries."

"True."

"Steve."

"What?" he asked innocently. Bucky continued to frown at him. "Fine! She's a SHIELD agent. She was assigned to keep an eye on me."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "I hope it was more than just her, poor girl," he explained when Steve looked affronted.

That made Steve smile. "I don't know. I asked her out when she was undercover, and she declined."

"Who pushed you to actually ask someone out?" Bucky wanted to know.

Steve looked surprised and maybe a little chagrined. "Oh. Nat. Natasha Romanoff. She's the other one who will be there."

"You told me," he said a little too sharply.

"Of course. Anyway, after – after things went down, Nat told me to give her a call. We saw each other a few times before I left DC."

Bucky looked at him patiently but he didn't continue. "And then?" He knew there was a significant time gap between SHIELD falling and the events that brought him from the comfortable life he'd made in Romania. He knew the number of days that he'd been free.

From the ashamed look on Steve's face, Bucky knew he wasn't going to like what he had to say. "Then I moved into the Avengers' compound and helped them dismantle HYDRA. It, uh, it took a while."

"And you never called this girl again, naturally. How awkward was it, seeing her in Berlin?"

Steve snorted. "I called her a couple times in between. And I saw her in London first at – at Peggy's funeral." They were both silent for a moment, remembering.

"Were all SHIELD agents there?" Bucky asked solemnly.

"Um, no. Turns out, Peggy was her aunt. Well, great aunt, I imagine. She gave the eulogy."

"Of course," he said slowly, wondering at the coincidence. Not that he wasn't familiar with similar ones. "That does sound awkward."

"It was alright. We went out for drinks after, had a good time catching up. Until we saw the news and she had to go back to work in Berlin."

Bucky was only momentarily confused. "Oh. Right." He stood up and stretched, glancing around at the other passengers doing so. "Well, I hate to say it, Steve, but I think interrupting your date is one of my more minor transgressions."

Grabbing his bag out of the overhead compartment, Steve snorted again. "That's too bad, man. Well, try not to do it again."

"I'll see what I can do," Bucky glanced over his shoulder with a grin.

* * *

It had been nice to see Bucky really smile again. More than just a wistful one. Maybe there would be more of those in the future. Still, Steve reminded himself, Bucky would certainly want to go back to Wakanda, back to sleep, as soon as they were finished here. He might want to stick around to see that the loose ends of this mission were tied up, but might not. It was important not to get his hopes up.

The cab was driving them toward the safehouse Nat had suggested. It was cramped with the two of them in the backseat. Bucky had gone silent, as Steve was noticing he did quite a lot these days. Perhaps because he hadn't been invited to speak much while working for HYDRA. Or it could just be nerves. Or guilt. He had a feeling it was probably the last one.

Was it stupid to have taken him out of cryo? He'd been safe there. If someone was after him, then leaving him in Wakanda would have been better. But they had no way of knowing what the person was planning. Steve was sure he hadn't just woken him up as an excuse to see him – or Sharon – again. If Sharon and Nat thought there was reason for concern, they were likely right. And if they thought this was the best course of action, he didn't have enough information to disagree and suggest something else.

Of course, they didn't know that Bucky had been in cryo. They didn't know he'd requested to be left asleep until something could be done about his programming. They didn't know what being called upon to relive his previous work would do to him. They didn't know Bucky.

Since he did, maybe he should have tried harder to protect him. "Hey, Buck," Steve said as the cab came to a stop. They were following Nat's suggested method of getting there, so they would be going on foot a ways before getting another cab to drive them a bit closer.

"Yeah?" Bucky replied, climbing out of the vehicle.

Steve joined him on the sidewalk after paying their driver and they started walking. "You don't have to do this."

"What, walk?"

"You know what I mean."

Bucky stopped and turned to face him. "You had them wake me. You got me this," he gestured to his hidden left arm. "You wouldn't have done those things without good reason. Even if you're doubting your good sense now. If there's any information I can give, you know I want to do that. You know I want to help people if I can. If someone's going down my kill list and crossing off names just because they're similar, you know I'd want to put a stop to that, no matter what."

That was possibly more than Bucky had said all at once since before he went into the ice. It made him smile despite the gravity of the situation to hear his old friend sounding so much like himself again. Well, maybe a little more guilt-ridden than he used to be, but still. "You're right."

"You feeling okay, Steve? You gave up awfully fast," Bucky said, regarding him.

"I'm doing just fine."

It was clear that Bucky didn't consider that to be a particularly satisfactory answer, but he kept walking. "You always say that."

"Do I?"

"Well, yeah." Bucky fell silent, and Steve was relieved he didn't pursue the matter.

They caught another cab at the next corner and rode along without a word until they stopped again. One more double-back and they would be at the place, Steve thought, looking around.

"Black Widow told you to do this, didn't she?"

Bucky was walking ahead of him and didn't glance back, so Steve wasn't sure what he was thinking. "She did. Why?"

"It's just… it's what my handlers used to always insist upon, too."

"It's a smart move," Steve offered.

"Yeah. Smart. Not very efficient, though."

"I suppose not. You aren't enjoying the nice fall air?"

That made Bucky snort. "I'm doing just fine."

Steve grinned at the phrase. "Is that what I sound like?"

"You're less convincing," Bucky replied in a long-suffering tone.

"Well, I'll just have to practice, then," he replied, shaking his head. He couldn't see his face, but he was sure Bucky was rolling his eyes again. "Come on, we're almost there."

He would enjoy his friend being willing to tease him again. He would not think about how short this interview would probably be, how quickly Bucky would be gone from his life once more. It was a pleasure to see him now, regardless of the circumstances, and he would honor his wishes when this was over. But he would enjoy it for now.


	10. Carved a Sain Against the Grain

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing! And, to my guest reviewer, oh yes. Absolutely. All of the above :D Thank you so much! I think you'll enjoy this chapter.**

 **Carved a Sain Against the Grain**

When Natasha opened the door, it was no surprise to find Steve and Barnes standing there. They were both dressed in what Steve thought was undercover – a few layers, a hat, sunglasses – though they'd taken off the last of these due to the darkness of the hallway. There were gloves on Barnes' hands, no doubt to hide the left one. The stubble on Steve's face was practically a beard already and she tried unsuccessfully to think of a time he hadn't been clean-shaven. It was clear that the intervening months had hardly been any easier for him than they had been for her, while Barnes looked much the same as he had before. Perhaps suspiciously so, she thought with a sinking feeling. Steve's expression was emotional, apologetic and guilty while still being glad to see her. Barnes' face was harder to read. Or maybe she just couldn't bring herself to study it for long enough.

"Hey, Nat," Steve said quietly.

She stepped back to let them through and shut the door behind them. "Come in, come in. Don't want the nosy neighbors getting any ideas."

"I'm sure you wouldn't pick a safehouse that had nosy neighbors," Barnes pointed out under his breath. She couldn't be certain if he was saying that about her specifically or that it was just a bad idea in general. It was clear that Steve and Sharon had missed the comment, and probably hers as well, so she chose not to respond. It brought a smile to her face to see the way Steve walked unhesitatingly over to Sharon, only to stop short and seem at a loss for what to do. He recovered quickly, leaning against the fortunately nearby wall as if it had been his intention all along.

"It's good to see you," he asserted with a little more force than was necessary. If Sharon noticed, she didn't comment on it, just smiled up at him.

"You too," she managed after a moment.

Natasha turned to Barnes to see what he made of scene. He looked like he was trying not to smile, or maybe even suppressing a laugh. Despite every reason their past acquaintance provided for her to be wary of him, she couldn't resist leaning closer and whispering so the others couldn't hear. "We might as well get started – looks like they're going to need a minute. To finish their sentences."

A surprised laugh escaped him, which broke the spell on Steve and Sharon, who both looked at him with varying degrees of embarrassment at the interruption. "Sorry," he mumbled, still smiling a little.

Back to her usual self, Sharon pulled out the files of the information they had and handed them over. Since she was paying attention to such things, Natasha was delighted when her hand brushed Steve's and both of them blushed. This behavior was something she sort of expected from Steve, but not from Sharon. Though he did have a way about him to take a girl's breath away. It just wasn't something to which she'd thought an accomplished agent like Sharon would fall victim. There were certainly more pressing concerns, but Natasha was happy to be witness to this.

Barnes remained where he was, standing awkwardly near the kitchen and his body language making it clear he wished he were smaller, but Natasha walked closer to read the files over Steve's shoulder. They were in-depth and they waited in silence while he went over them. First the original cases then the more recent, presumed copies. His brow furrowed as he went along.

"What do you think, Nat?" he asked when he'd finished, looking up at her.

"This looks bad," she answered simply.

"Yeah."

"We wouldn't have called you boys here otherwise," she added, glancing at Sharon.

"Of course. Sam sends his regards, by the way."

She grinned, pleased. "Does he? How is he?"

With a shrug, he looked back over the files thoughtfully. "Same old Sam. Wishes you ended up on our side."

"Me too," she muttered, turning away.

Steve glanced over at Barnes, who remained motionless throughout. "Well. If these are connected, we have a problem. Maybe one we can't handle on our own," he added as he handed the files back.

"Steve." At Sharon's tone, Steve stopped whatever else he might have been going to say and looked at her expectantly. "It's my op. I can get backup if I need it."

"Oh. Of course," he conceded quickly. "It's your job. We'd just like to help if we can."

"I'm sure you can. Both of you," she added, flashing a tentative smile at Barnes.

That reminded Steve of his manners and he got to his feet quickly. "Sharon, Natasha, this is Bucky."

They all shook hands amicably and Natasha did not think about how sometimes she could still feel his hand around her neck after their last encounter. Sharon was a good example, being friendly and clearly not dwelling on the fact that he'd knocked her unconscious the only other time she'd seen him in close quarters. It would take some effort, but Natasha was capable of swallowing her feelings and following suit. Though it was harder than she had expected it to be.

"I've heard a lot about you," Sharon said.

"I've heard a lot about you, too," Barnes replied, an almost mischievous smile growing on his face, particularly when he glanced over and saw Steve's obvious discomfort at the implication.

Natasha didn't say anything when he shook her hand and he looked at her solemnly, perhaps on the verge of apologizing. She didn't want to hear it. If he started being all earnest with her, she didn't think she could handle it. "Well, how about dinner before we get down to business?"

"Are you going to cook for us?" Steve asked, grinning.

"I'm afraid that isn't one of my skillsets. I excel at ordering out, though."

"There are few things she doesn't excel at," he said to Barnes, who offered him a smile in response.

After forcing everyone to focus long enough to see what they wanted, Natasha felt considerable relief as she retreated to the kitchen to make the call. When it was finished, she wasn't too excited to rejoin everyone in the living room. The atmosphere was a little uncomfortable and she was uninterested in playing hostess to get everyone on the same page. The sooner they interviewed Barnes and sent him on his way, the better.

She lingered in the kitchen as long as she reasonably could without someone asking after her, listening to Steve tell Sharon a story about him and Barnes during the war. Sometimes Barnes mentioned something but not often. She wondered how he felt about those kinds of stories. It wasn't in her nature to talk about her past, so she tended to be surprised by people who delighted in doing so. Of course, his reticence might indicate he didn't remember much, which wouldn't bode well for what they were trying to do here. As much as a relief as that might be.

"Do you need our secret weapon back?" Natasha asked in a loud whisper as she walked over to sit down next to Sharon.

"Not just yet, we'll give him a little longer," she replied with a grin.

Steve looked slightly offended. "Was the story going on too long?"

"Not at all," Sharon assured him, reaching out to pat his arm. He smiled at her, clearly relieved. Despite what she'd said, though, he wrapped up the story quickly but without sacrificing its entertainment value. It was enough to make Natasha laugh, which was a rare thing these days.

The knock at the door came at just the right time, and Natasha got up gracefully to get it. Some nonverbal negotiations between Steve and Barnes ended up with Barnes joining her in the kitchen to help. Natasha smirked at the lack of subtly with which Steve secured some alone time with Sharon. She would have to be sure to make some noise when she returned to the living room, to avoid embarrassing either of them. Gentle teasing was one thing, but she was concerned about how unexpected interruptions might negatively affect the blossoming romance.

Barnes silently helped her arrange the food and utensils for better use. "Thank you," she said politely when they were done.

"Happy to help, Natalia," he replied, meeting her gaze with an unexpected intensity.

It took considerable effort not to react to hearing her name in Russian. For reasons she wasn't going to think about, she just smiled instead of insisting he call her the Anglicized version or a nickname. "Dinner's ready," she called with forced brightness as she hurried back to the living room, acutely aware of him following her steadily.


	11. At the Nine Doors to Get

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **At the Nine Doors to Get**

Bucky ate silently, smiling when the occasion called for it, but mostly just watching. Natalia and Steve clearly had worked together for a long time, and both were obviously ignoring the reasons behind not speaking to each other in months. Sharon was less familiar to them but had her share of stories to compare to theirs, and they got along just fine. It was Steve, of course, who tried the most to include Bucky, but Sharon did as well and he appreciated that. What Natalia thought of him was impossible to determine.

It had been a while since he'd eaten and he enjoyed the food as well as the pleasant company, even if he took little part in their conversation. He didn't want to think about how long ago it must have been since he last had a meal surrounded by friends. Well, friendly people. Steve was his friend. Unfortunately for Steve.

All too soon, the meal was over. "Well, are we ready to get started?" Sharon asked.

Steve looked at him carefully. "I'm sure it can wait till morning if you want," he said softly.

"Now's fine." The sooner they got it over with, the better. Steve continued to search his face, still offering him an out, but Natalia nodded slightly, as though she agreed with his assessment. The expression on Sharon's face made it clear she was focused on the matter at hand over his feelings about them, which was a relief. He hated being worried over.

"Alright. Here's the information that we have."

Taking the files carefully from Sharon, he was a little surprised at the age of some of them. It seemed like these things would have been updated at some point. But originals usually provided better data. He was aware of three pairs of eyes watching him and did his best to ignore them while he read, uncertain what he was supposed to be looking for.

 _The sun is hot on his back, beads of sweat trickle down his neck. But he remains motionless, his goggles keeping him from having to squint. Waiting. Until one of the men in a Hawaiian shirt gets close enough for him to be sure. Steady. Taking aim._

"Hey, Buck," Steve's voice broke through as he touched his arm gently.

Bucky jumped back, heart pounding. Oh. Steve. Sharon. Natalia. He was in a safehouse. He was safe. The mission was a long time ago and he was back from it. "I'm fine," he insisted automatically. "I just, uh, I remember this one."

With barely perceptible hesitation, Sharon took the file from him and nodded. "Good to see that our hypothesis is correct. Do you think the other two were your work?"

The next one was harder to recall. A French diplomat. Nothing rang any bells until he'd almost finished reading it. But the part about a troop transport being blown up – he knew that. It had bothered him, perhaps because it brought back memories of being a soldier himself. A real soldier, in the war. Not an assassin. Not a weapon they would unleash. They'd had to remind him of his priorities after that.

"This one," he stated slowly, aware that everyone was clearly much more relieved this time. That was too bad, because he'd barely gotten the last one open before the memories took him over again.

 _The man would be in his pool, he'd been told. He hadn't been told there would be other people in the house. He'd watched them for a long time, an older brother playing with his younger sister, telling himself it was because he didn't want them to find the body. Or witness anything. But it stirred something in him that he knew his handlers would not like._

 _When he was finished making it look accidental, he had left the house and wandered some ways down the street without paying attention. An alarm bell went off in his head to turn around, but he didn't. Just kept walking. It was important, somehow._

 _The next thing he knew, he was in civilian clothes on a bus. It was comforting to watch the landscape pass by. Peaceful._

 _He was walking again. Through neighborhoods that were somehow familiar but very different. After a while, he'd stopped and stared at a flophouse for a long time. It wasn't supposed to be there. How he could possibly know that was a mystery, but he went inside and stayed, waiting to find out what had drawn him to this spot._

 _He never got an answer. His handlers found him and asked him a lot of questions. He couldn't explain his actions, and they did not answer what he wanted to know about the place. Then they made him forget._

He blinked hard, aware that he'd been silent for a while. The others were tense and watching him. It was sort of amusing to see their different reactions – Natalia was clearly ready to attack, Sharon was not quite to that point, but obviously prepared to defend herself, and Steve was looking miserable and guilty. Poor Steve.

"This too," he managed, his voice sounding gravely and unused even to him.

"Thank you," Sharon said sincerely. "Is there anything you can tell us about these cases that might help?"

"I don't know. Like what?"

"Who would know that you – that they were completed by you."

He wasn't sure how the rephrasing improved the statement, but he considered. "I don't know. I didn't, ah, I didn't usually know who anyone was. Just where I could find the target." Sharon looked so disappointed he tried again. "I mean, sometimes I'd get a speech about the good work I was doing. But I don't remember anything like that here."

"I see." Sharon got up to get her computer and Steve shot him an encouraging look. Natalia was still watching him like a hawk, but he tried not to think about that. "There are a lot of cases attributed to you. We were hoping you'd be able to tell us which ones are true so we might have an idea of what they'll do next."

Accepting her laptop with as much care as he'd had for the files, he looked up at her. "You want me to read all these? And see if I remember any of them?"

"Please."

He frowned at the screen then looked back at the three of them. "And you're just going to be sitting there, watching me? For hours?"

That broke some of the tension, bringing back some of the smiles from dinner. Not for long, though. "He could use one of the bedrooms," Natalia offered, not looking at him.

"That would be great," Steve stated, getting to his feet. Bucky did the same and followed him, resisting the urge to look back at the women. "You okay with this?" he asked more quietly as soon as they were in the room.

There were two twin beds and a dresser furnishing the room. It would do. "Yeah. I'm sure you'd all be more comfortable if I'm out of the way."

"Hey," Steve said, grabbing his shoulder. "We're all glad you're here. If we didn't need you, you'd still be asleep."

That was probably true. "I've hurt them."

With a sigh, Steve shut the door and turned to look at him, leaning against the wall like he always did when he wanted to have a discussion. "You remember that?"

"Yes."

"Do you remember shooting Nat?"

"What?" he asked, considerably startled by what Steve apparently knew.

Steve was regarding him, gauging his reaction. "Not recently. Probably – what – eight years ago? Outside Odessa. She said she was trying to protect her engineer and you shot through her to kill him."

"Why do you ask?" His mouth was dry, but his heartrate was slowing down in relief.

"Because she was just driven off the road near Odessa and she doesn't think it was a coincidence. I don't know why that wasn't one of Sharon's files," Steve added thoughtfully, glancing toward the closed door.

"It was me," he said before Steve could get any ideas into his head about asking Natalia to describe it. She didn't need to relive that, and he didn't think he could bear seeing her questioned about it.

"Looks like we're four for four, then. If we can predict what other targets they might pick, maybe we can save them in time."

That was a much less optimistic sentiment than Steve usually had. Perhaps all this time hiding out was having a more negative effect than he'd realized. "I'll do my best," he said firmly, settling down on the bed to read. It would have the added benefit of getting him out of everyone's hair much faster, too.

Steve smiled. "Great. Let us know if you need anything." He waited until Bucky nodded, then left.


	12. The Secrets of Dreams

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **The Secrets of Dreams**

It was uncomfortable leaving Bucky alone, particularly since he would be reliving unpleasant memories. But Steve tried to keep in mind that Bucky would no doubt prefer a little privacy under these circumstances. And it wasn't like Steve could help him in some way. There was really no way he could relate to what this would do to his friend. All he knew was that Bucky looked stressed when he was in the living room with them watching, and relieved at the prospect of doing this one on his own. Besides, they would be close by if he needed anything.

This whole situation was strange and took some thought to navigate. He did believe that Sharon and Nat were right to insist on him bringing Bucky in to be questioned about his previous work. His insight had already proved useful, and there was reason to hope that he would be able to guide their next moves in terms of stopping whoever was doing this. Steve just hoped Nat could get along with Bucky until then. She wasn't actively hostile, but there was obviously something bothering her. At least Sharon was making an effort to be nice to everyone.

The ladies were in the kitchen, smiling at something Nat had just said, though he hadn't been listening in time to catch it. "He's all set?" Sharon asked, turning her smile toward him.

He managed not to stop in his tracks at the sight. "Yeah," he said stupidly.

"Sharon was just telling me how little she heard from you while we were chasing down Loki's scepter," Nat stated, leaning against the counter and giving him a cheeky grin.

"I, uh, we were busy," he began.

She shook her head sympathetically in Sharon's direction. "I would have taken care of it if I'd known."

"That's very reassuring," Sharon replied, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Come on, Nat…"

With an exaggerated expression, Nat turned her ear toward him and made a show of waiting. "What? Nothing? Well, I'm sure you'll do much better when you and Barnes head back to whatever it is you're keeping yourself."

He smiled slightly. "I'm sure I will," he answered her while gazing intently at Sharon, who blushed.

"And, uh, where might that be?" Nat continued after a pause as she glanced between the two of them.

"A secret underwater base, of course," he told her very seriously, aware that Sharon was giggling. Clearly, she'd been keeping up on the absurd claims the tabloids had been making. "Where have you been keeping yourself?"

"Oh, here and there. I've got a lot of places to go to ground when the need arises," Nat said flippantly.

"That's good. Have you been in States-side long, Sharon?"

She shook her head. "No, just for this case. I'm still in Berlin most of the time. After I convinced my boss that I would never abet known fugitives," she added in an overly somber tone.

That made even Nat laugh. "Yes, of course. What a ridiculous accusation," she said in the same tone Sharon had used.

"Sorry," Steve offered, more sincerely than he'd intended, breaking the mood somewhat.

"It's alright, Steve. It was necessary," she assured him.

Nat muttered something under her breath but he chose to ignore it as he tried to figure out just how much he'd screwed up Sharon's life. It was amazing she was still willing to talk to him, after all this. He was touched by the devotion his friends had shown him, were continuing to show him, and wondered what he could have done to deserve such a treatment. It wasn't loyalty to Captain America that drove them – that wasn't who he was anymore.

"You know, some people think you're dead," Nat's voice cut through his thoughts.

"Oh?"

Her expression was unreadable as she regarded him. "Yes. Because Tony has your shield."

He winced at the memory of how that came to be. "He said it didn't belong to me because his father made it."

"Ah." From her tone, she clearly understood how that might have transpired.

"What happened up there, with him?" Sharon asked gently.

Steve didn't really want to talk about that. Especially because he didn't know how much Bucky would be willing to share with others. After he'd rescued Sam and everyone from the Raft, he hadn't gone into details about how he'd ended up there without Bucky and clearly still a fugitive. Sam had guiltily explained that he'd told Tony where to go, believing that he'd changed his mind about listening to Steve. So Steve had to tell them enough to make it clear that Zemo's plan had been to turn them against each other, and it had been successful through no fault of anyone on his team. But he hadn't said what the catalyst was.

"Zemo wanted to destroy us. He succeeded," he said at last, bitterness coating his tone.

"How?" Nat pressed. Sharon looked at her sharply, clearly willing to let the subject drop.

"Tony, ah, had a lot to be angry about."

Before he could say anything else, Sharon gave a little noise of surprise. They both turned to look at her expectantly. Something was clearly just occurring to her and she spoke slowly as she made her way through it. "There were always rumors about how the Starks died. That it wasn't an accident. Zemo told the truth about it, didn't he? That it was a hit, by the Winter Soldier? That's what drove Tony to attack you. Well, Bucky. And you protected him."

"Yeah," he admitted, impressed.

"Are you telling me that the Winter Soldier killed Howard Stark?" Nat demanded, incredulous.

He considered a lie to cover it up, but knew she'd see right through that. "He didn't know what he was doing."

Nat's jaw clenched and he prepared for an onslaught, suddenly afraid that she might react as strongly as Tony had. She had been on Stark's side right up until the very last few moments at the airport. But then she looked away and slowly relaxed her muscles. He glanced at Sharon, who was also watching Nat closely. When she noticed him looking at her, she gave him a hesitant smile.

"What is it, Natasha?" she asked quietly.

"Nothing. I'm just… overtired. Enjoy your evening." The last statement brought something like her previous smirk to her face, but it was gone before she disappeared into the unoccupied bedroom. That was something of a relief, honestly. He had been glad to see her, but it looked like things were still complicated.

"Is she alright?" Sharon questioned.

There were layers to her question, not just related to his current assessment of his friend but also how he might assess her ability to perform in the field. "She might be compromised. I'm sure it's been a rough few months," Steve admitted.

"For all of us. I'll let her stay with me as long as I can, Steve, but you might want to consider taking her back with you."

That was kinder than he had expected, and he smiled at her. She was right, of course. Nat had gotten the worst of the deal and that was because of him. Without her quick thinking by the quinjet, T'Challa might have managed to kill Bucky. Or at least wound him. Steve didn't think he would have been in any real danger, but Bucky certainly had been. And Nat had saved them.

So bringing her with him was really the least he could do. Clint would be glad to see that she was safe. Sam would be delighted, Wanda would appreciate no longer being the only girl, Scott would continue to be excited about meeting Avengers. There was no reason for Nat to be out on her own after helping them, and if Tony was unwilling to forgive her, Steve wasn't going to leave her to swing. If he'd had any way to get in touch with her before now, he would have.

"You're right," he told Sharon, reaching for her hand. "You want to come, too?"

She pressed her lips together, looking up at him. "I don't know. Maybe," she admitted, squeezing his hand.

"I've missed you."

A shy smile graced her features while she allowed him to pull her closer. "I've missed you too."

All other thoughts left his head as he showed her just how much he appreciated getting to see her again, whatever the circumstances.


	13. The Ones I Could Hear Them Singing

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **The Ones I Could Hear Them Singing**

The sound of one of the bedroom doors opening caused them to break apart. Steve ducked his head, smiling at her before turning to the noise that had interrupted their enjoyable reunion. Sharon returned the expression, but it faded quickly as Barnes appeared in the doorway, looking haggard. It was clear that Steve had the same reaction because he started forward.

"I'm fine," Barnes insisted.

One of the more surprising things she'd found about the Winter Soldier was his voice. It always caught her off-guard to hear it, maybe because of how soft it was, or how it always sounded a little hoarse – like he'd just woken up. Not something to be expected from one of the most feared assassins on the planet. Of course, Natasha could be considered in that boat, and her voice was similarly unlikely for an assassin. Perhaps it was just a surprise to hear someone in that line of work talk at all. In any case, she'd heard Natasha speak far more so it was less of a surprise when she did so.

Steve stopped in his tracks, glancing back at Sharon briefly. "Did you find anything?" he asked his friend.

"Yeah." Looking like he had no intention of continuing, Barnes headed for the couch and dropped onto it heavily after setting her laptop down very carefully on the table.

Sharon and Steve exchanged a look before heading toward the other couch. Steve didn't let go of her hand which made her cheeks warm. "Can you tell us?" she asked gently.

"Sorry for interrupting," was the only response as Barnes stared intently at his hands, which were clasped in front of him.

It was irrelevant but she couldn't help wondering if the self-comforting gesture was limited by the fact that one of his hands was (presumably) cold and metallic. "It's not a problem," Steve insisted, putting his free hand on Barnes's shoulder.

"Particularly if you've found any leads for me," Sharon added smoothly, predicting that giving him an immediate option to do something good might lessen the weight of having to dwell on the bad things he'd done. Barnes didn't answer right away and she felt Steve tense beside her. His jaw was clenched in that way of his and she was concerned that she'd taken the wrong approach.

"We can talk about it in the morning." The tone Steve used was possibly more commanding than he'd intended, and she glanced at him sharply.

Barnes snorted. "You two can take the bedroom if you want. I'm sure I won't be sleeping."

That quickly diminished Steve's intensity, and she would have been amused by his embarrassment if she weren't feeling it herself. They looked at each other for half a second before both looked away, blushing and uncomfortable with the suggestion. He released her hand to fold both arms over his chest, looking at the ground. She liked him, certainly, a great deal. And he was… very handsome. But she didn't know she was ready to hop into bed with him. He clearly felt the same way, which was something of a relief while still being vaguely insulting.

"Maybe next time," she managed to say.

It occurred to her that Barnes looked like he was suppressing a smile, and she frowned with the thought that he'd brought that up on purpose. To distract them. Well, it had worked quite effectively. She had expected that kind of gentle manipulation from Natasha, but not from him. Clearly she was wrong to think he was just a lost boy from the forties with a sordid history. She reminded herself that he was HYDRA's best resource for years and that couldn't only be from his sharpshooting skills.

"Alright," Bucky conceded, watching Steve, who was apparently speechless.

Sharon reached for her laptop and opened it, seeing a handful of files were still open. "These are the ones?"

"Yeah." The amusement was gone from Barnes's eyes and he looked down at his hands again.

"Thank you, Bucky. It means a lot," she told him sincerely, reaching out to pat his shoulder after a brief pause.

He shrugged.

"Do you want to take a walk or something before bed?" Steve suggested. "It might help," he added when Barnes looked like he would protest.

"It's a nice night. Light exercise usually helps me sleep," she offered.

Possibly seeing that arguing with Steve would be pointless, or maybe just unwilling to do it in front of someone else, Barnes nodded and stood up. The weather was pleasant for fall, but still required them to put on a few more layers before leaving the house. Sharon looked uncertainly at Natasha's door, but decided not to bother her. They wouldn't be gone long, she was sure.

The brisk air definitely woke her up and she smiled at Steve as they walked along. The sidewalk wasn't wide enough for the three of them, and Barnes dropped behind without commenting. After a few paces, Steve took her hand again and she thought the walk might go on a bit longer than she'd initially intended.

"You ever been here before?" she asked conversationally after a while.

"I'm afraid not. It's a nice city," Steve replied, appreciating the scenery.

They paused to let Barnes offer his view but he didn't say anything.

"I would think you'd be extremely well-traveled, especially lately."

Steve smiled slightly. "Yeah. I have been making the rounds. But Barton usually sends me to abandoned warehouses or old castles. We try to avoid the cities."

"Why?" She could guess but liked hearing him talk.

"Well, there are a lot more civilians there. And we try to avoid them as much as we can."

She nodded, thinking of their botched mission in Lagos. "That's a good plan, especially if you're fighting dangerous people."

"Yes, exactly. They tend to stay away from population centers as well, so there aren't any nosy neighbors. We don't want anyone recognizing us and getting a picture of what we're doing, either, so it usually works out."

"How does Barton know where to send you?"

Steve shrugged. "He has a lot of contacts. We all do. There are still HYDRA agents out there, other dissidents who just want to hurt people. We try to stop them."

He looked uncomfortable so she didn't pursue the matter further. It was clear that he was trying to do what he'd been made to do, and hated any inaction caused by the current political climate. Since she understood very well what being benched felt like, she knew it wasn't something he wanted to discuss at length. He and his people were trying their best, and that was all they could do right now.

"How many safehouses do you think she has?"

Steve shook his head. "Nat? A lot. Probably one in every major city around the world."

"And I'd imagine some that are in the middle of nowhere. For when she wants to get away," she added.

"A bunch in Russia, for when she gets homesick."

"She wouldn't do that," Barnes broke in, much more serious than they had been.

Glancing back, Steve raised an eyebrow. "You don't think she misses where she's from?" he asked, his tone making it obvious that he understood the sentiment acutely.

Barnes was silent for a moment, considering how to answer. "I don't think… I don't think it's somewhere she'd want to be reminded of."

It would make sense for Barnes to have had some experience with feeling that way about locations. Which might be why he didn't want to say if he'd been here before. If he had, it wouldn't be like she or Steve, saving people. Or at least getting intel to aid in saving people later. He would only be there to kill them. It wasn't unreasonable to think Natasha might have the same sort of history.

"What makes you say that, Buck?" Steve asked, clearly assessing his friend.

"If she felt that it was home, that she was Russian, don't you think she'd go by the Russian version of her name?" he said with a shrug.

That was a good point. Steve nodded then met Sharon's gaze. Barnes apparently had some insight into their friend that they did not share. Which was interesting. It was unfortunate that Natasha seemed much less comfortable with his presence than Sharon would have expected. She was a professional, after all, and had certainly needed to work with people who had hurt her in the past. Not that Sharon had any intention of pushing her – she'd been through enough lately.

They had come full circle and made their way back upstairs to the apartment. Barnes disappeared without a word back into the bedroom, while Sharon and Steve lingered outside. "You think he'll be alright?" she asked softly.

Steve pursed his lips. "I've been wondering that for a couple years," he admitted.

She reached up to touch his face gently. "We'll figure something out," she promised.

His answer was nonverbal but very pleasant, and it was few moments before they came up for air. "Good night," he whispered, kissing her cheek.

"Good night, Steve." She watched him go, smiling to herself. This all might be a mistake, but God, was it a nice one.


	14. Back Then, the Thunder Gods

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Back Then, the Thunder Gods**

Natasha didn't move when Sharon eventually came into the room, though she could tell the other woman was watching her to see if she was still awake. Of course sleep eluded her. She hadn't gotten a good night's rest in a long time, nor was she likely to in the future. Sleeping meant dreaming and she had no interest in seeing what nightmares her brain could concoct that were worse than her current situation.

But Sharon settled down quickly in the other bed and seemed to be asleep. Leaving the room was pointless – who knew if her other guests had also retired for the evening or if they might be out there. And she had no interest in talking to them. Thus, she stayed still and stared at the wall, waiting for exhaustion to claim her. While she waited, she fought the urge to go back over all of the events that had led her here. Instead, best to focus on the future.

Her online resources were compromised. That wasn't a huge problem – it was easy enough to create new ones. Getting up to the point where she was entrusted with actually interesting jobs would take some time, but she'd only been improving her reputation for a few months. Consequently, she hadn't lost all that much. Having to start from scratch again was nothing to fret over.

The initial panic that had filled her after being attacked had diminished. Here they had the Winter Soldier himself, clearly not the responsible party. So, she wasn't in any real danger from that quarter. If someone was copying his list, she wasn't going to run into them again. And it was unlikely to really affect her directly. Not unless she wanted to be involved.

Her friends had abandoned her and she wanted to refuse to forgive them. But she couldn't. They were her friends and none of them had expected things to escalate so quickly. She'd played things wrong, ending up with nothing. It wasn't as if they'd gotten off significantly better, except for the enviable result of not being alone.

Perhaps… Well, if she stuck around long enough, maybe she could convince Steve to take her with him and Barnes when they left. She'd be a valuable asset for the work they were doing in the shadows. And she could put aside her feelings where Barnes was concerned. Surely she'd earned that much? They'd worked well together for years, and this little hiccup really shouldn't have driven them apart the way it had.

It had been a long time since she had been on her own quite as thoroughly as she was now. She had made a name for herself early on, but never like this. Never a fugitive known around the world for her crimes. What those were, exactly, she didn't know. The details of their fight were kept as under wraps as possible. In any case, her previous reputation had only really been in the intelligence community. Now, it was everywhere. She was drowning in it. Being here with friends felt like she was finally catching a breath of fresh air. And going to see the others, especially Clint… Well, then she might feel like she could really breathe again.

Eventually she talked herself into having a little hope. Just a little.

* * *

She was awake at dawn, feeling more rested than she had been in a while. It was nice to have other people around who had her back – helped her sleep more deeply without frequently rousing herself to make sure she was safe. Sharon was still asleep, so Natasha pulled on a sweater and slipped out of the room, thinking about how nice a cup of coffee would be.

It was stupid to stop in her tracks the way she did at the sight of Barnes sitting at the counter. Of course he was here. It was far too much to ask to think she could get some coffee in her own home without enduring company. Well, it wasn't really her home, so she supposed she shouldn't complain. She had invited all of them here, after all. No sign of Steve, in any case. She recovered with dignity and continued walking toward the kitchen as though his presence was inconsequential.

"Good morning," she said cheerfully as she headed for the cupboard that held the coffee maker. Only to find it already out and percolating away.

"Morning," Barnes replied softly, politely not watching her. He had something in front of him that he was reading – a newspaper, though where he found such a thing was a mystery. She didn't subscribe to any, but here he was, looking perfectly natural in her kitchen, making her coffee and wearing pajamas while reading the newspaper. Better not dwell on any of that mess.

"Sleep well?" Her expression remained cheerful as she prepared a cup, stirring it slowly while it cooled down a bit.

He shrugged eloquently. "It was alright."

Somehow she missed a beat and then the silence between them stretched into awkwardness. Taking a sip of her coffee accomplished nothing except to scald her tongue and she cursed herself for getting up this early. If she'd waited, Sharon or Steve might have gotten up before her and she wouldn't be stuck here trying to act like she could just have a chat with, well, with Barnes. As if there wasn't a huge elephant in the room.

"Did all of you stay up late?" she asked like she didn't know how long it had been between going to bed and having Sharon come in. As though she'd actually be asleep, and deeply enough not to notice someone moving around in the same room.

"For a while, yeah. I finished reading the files and Steve wanted to go on a walk."

"With Sharon?"

Barnes smiled fondly, a surprising expression for his usually serious face, then shook his head. "I got roped into it somehow."

"That can't have been fun," she offered, smirking at the thought of him being a third wheel and Steve having no idea that's how the arrangement would obviously end.

"Not particularly, but I made myself scarce as soon as we got back so he'd at least say goodnight to her properly."

"That was very gallant of you."

He snorted, looking up at her mischievously. "I told them they could have our room and I'd sleep on the couch, but they didn't take that too well."

A laugh bubbled up and she didn't suppress it. "No? Well, at least you put the idea into their heads."

"I just figured, you know, we'll be leaving soon and the punk won't think to call her when he's too busy saving the world from the shadows."

"He should certainly take advantage of this opportunity," she agreed wholeheartedly. "Maybe you'll just have to remind him regularly.

It was shocking how quickly Barnes' expression changed from amicable to closed-off. "Yeah, I guess," he muttered to the countertop in front of him.

"You don't think he'd take it well?" That was strange, if so. Steve never reacted poorly to a little friendly cajoling.

"It's not that," he assured her, unmoving.

"Then what?" she asked quietly, leaning closer.

He cleared his throat and finally looked up. "I won't be seeing him for a long time."

"Why not?"

It was obvious that he was considering what to tell her. "Because, when this is over, I'm going back into cryo freeze."

She considered how unchanged he had looked, compared to Steve. Compared to all of them, maybe. So it wasn't really a surprise to hear he'd found a way to get himself frozen again. Blinking away the unpleasant image of him in a tube, she shook her head. "Why?" Her question was slow and deliberate as she kept her emotions in check.

He glanced back toward the bedrooms then back at her, like maybe he wasn't supposed to say anything. "That's where I've been since, you know, all that happened. It's safer."

"For who?" she demanded, feeling her control slipping. If Steve could accept this, then so could she. Maybe. But Steve hadn't been there, he didn't know.

"Everyone. There's still… things in my head. That people can use. Until they can't… I'm not safe to have around. The only reason I'm here is because I figured, between you and Steve and Sharon, you'd be able to take me down before I did anything. I should help while I can. But I don't want to burden you any longer than I have to."

Well, he wasn't wrong. Her fingers were wrapped too tightly around her coffee cup and she set it down with a little more force than intended, spilling some of the contents. The distraction was welcome, though, and she reached back for a towel. Barnes was using his napkin on the mess but she absently added the towel to it anyway. What the hell were they thinking? Who even had the technology to put him under again? Surely they wouldn't use HYDRA's tech? There was something more going on here than anyone was telling her.

A tiny part of her suggested that, with Barnes frozen, a lot of the potential problems with her joining Steve would be gone. Going with him after this would be easy, seeing her old friends. Doing some good work with them. But she squashed those ideas quickly. There had to be other options for the poor man than being kept in storage until needed. How could Steve just let this happen? He was too dramatic – something more pragmatic would have to be considered.

When the spill was sufficiently clean, Barnes grabbed her hand gently but quickly enough to startle her. She froze, staring at his earnest expression, acutely aware of the way his metal fingers warmed to her touch. Uh oh.

"Natalia," he began, sounding desperate.

Just then, though, Steve came out of his bedroom. Barnes dropped her hand immediately and turned away, leaving her trying to decide if she was relieved by the interruption or not. "Good morning," she called to Steve, wishing her heart wasn't pounding quite so hard.


	15. They Used to Cast Out Lights

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **They Used to Cast Out Lights**

Sharon woke to find herself alone in the bedroom. That was hardly a surprise and it took her a moment to remember where she was. Oh. Right. Natasha was already up. There were faint voices coming through the walls so she wondered if she was the only one still in bed. More importantly, she could smell coffee. And that was reason enough to get moving.

While she made herself a bit more presentable, she smiled at the memory of last night with Steve. It was too bad he would have to go back sooner rather than later. Maybe they could find a way to talk more frequently without compromising either of them. And sometimes even meet up, if possible. At the moment, she was more concerned with the latter.

What was clearly Natasha's voice called an overly cheery good morning to Steve, and she wondered what the woman was covering up. Only one way to find out.

"Oh, look, Sharon's awake, too," Natasha continued in the same cheerful tone when she opened the door.

Natasha was standing behind the counter with a cup of coffee nearby. Which must have gotten spilled because there was a towel there, too. Steve was just leaving his room, so was only a few feet away, smiling at her. Bucky was on the other side of the counter, turned in his chair to look at them with a carefully closed-off expression on his face. That was suspicious, but it wasn't really any of her business.

"It's going to be a busy day," Sharon explained, heading toward the kitchen, Steve following.

"Is it?" Natasha asked, the fake smile she wore becoming unsettling.

Pulling up the stool next to Bucky's, she took a seat. "Yeah. Bucky here was nice enough to provide us with a few leads, so we're going to have some work to do."

This was clearly a relief to Natasha, whose expression became a little more natural. When she didn't say anything, Steve did. "Did you get a chance to look them over?"

"Not yet. I was thinking after breakfast."

Steve drew up a chair next to her and looked plaintively at Natasha. "What's for breakfast?" he asked.

"Coffee," she replied coolly.

"There's a café down the street that's open for breakfast," Bucky suggested unexpectedly. They all looked at him in surprise and he cleared his throat. "I saw it on the walk last night. You two were probably busy staring into each other's eyes."

Natasha laughed at that, while Sharon smiled and looked at her lap and Steve fixed Bucky with a good-humored glare.

"Come on, punk. Let's see if food helps with your crankiness," Bucky teased.

"And what will help with yours, Buck?"

"Possibly nothing," was Bucky's indifferent reply.

She glanced at Steve, who looked amused and a little worried at the same time. Which was a unique expression. Perhaps he felt that his friend's flippant tone was to hide how he felt about the situation. She should probably insist they leave soon after breakfast. The thought filled her with an unfounded gloom. How ridiculous, she admonished herself. She was never one to choose love over duty, and there was a lot of the latter to deal with before she considered the former.

In any case, the four of them headed off to breakfast. Natasha shook off her strange mood from earlier and was able to keep the conversation going through the course of the meal without ever getting too personal or specific. It was intriguing to watch her work. Sharon had been trained in quite a few different methods for questioning people and a few more on how to deal with civilians in the field. But some things couldn't be taught, and Natasha's ability to ease herself into any situation was one of those.

After they'd finished eating, they walked back to the apartment and settled in the living room. Steve and Sharon shared a couch. Natasha took the other one, while Bucky leaned against the wall behind them. Distancing himself. That was entirely understandable and she didn't invite him into the room to be a part of what they had to do.

"Well, there are quite a few of these. Some of them aren't really replicable in our current political climate, so we may be able to ignore them. I'd say these are the most likely targets of our copycat." She skimmed the details to relate to the others, who listened silently.

A top man at MI6 in London, found drowned in his bathtub.

The Vice-Chancellor of Wakanda in Switzerland for an economic summit fell off a mountain.

A NATO general shot in West Berlin.

The British Ambassador in Madripoor and his whole party killed at a dinner.

"There are more," Bucky muttered when she stopped talking.

"I know. The others are a larger scale, which would be more than we can handle with our current resources. Hopefully that's true of whomever is doing this as well. I'll send those to my contacts at the CIA to keep an eye on, but having some evidence first will help get some real support."

"Do you think they'll try any of these?" Steve asked, looking over her shoulder.

She shrugged. "What do you think, Natasha?"

Natasha appeared to be deep in thought, and shook her head slightly when addressed.

"I think we'd better split up, each go to one and be on the lookout for our culprit." Steve began to protest and she shot him a quelling look. "We have no idea how long they're waiting between jobs, and, if these are the most likely targets, one of them is going to be hit soon. Sharon can send her people after the ones with higher body counts, but we should do our part to bring the guy in for questioning. Maybe by us first," she added darkly.

That was a thought she had not previously considered, and it was clear Steve felt the same way. "You're right. We're close enough to all but Madripoor. Bucky," he turned around to face his friend. "Are you up for this?"

Bucky's eyes were wide with something like fear but he nodded. "I'll take Madripoor."

If Steve wanted to protest, the look on Bucky's face stopped him. "Alright. I'll head to Switzerland, see if there are any Wakandans around."

"I'm sure I can get close to any NATO officer in Berlin," Sharon offered, verifying with Natasha that she would accept the remaining option.

"London is lovely this time of year," she answered with grim smile.

"Alright. Why don't you get ready and I'll see what resources I can get us."

Sharon got to her feet and headed back into her room. A quick message to her superiors outlined her theory as well as attached the relevant files. She did not include what Natasha had reported. They were certain to greet her theory with suspicion, and might not provide personnel to investigate the larger acts without some kind of proof. Which was why Natasha was right about splitting up. If they could catch someone in the act, or even just prove there was a connection, the CIA or the task force might take it from there.

After finding them all flights to their respective locations, she packed up her things and rejoined the others, passing out burner phones. At Bucky she paused, looking at his metal arm. "You can fly commercial, right?" she asked with some concern.

"Yeah. That's how we got here," he replied.

His fingers were trembling a little and he barely looked at her. Clearly nervous. She was struck with the thought that Zemo had used a book to control him somehow. Given that their current antagonist knew a great deal more about the Winter Soldier than anyone else, he probably had good reason to be worried. Pursing her lips, she pulled a pair of earplugs from her bag. "Just in case," she explained, pressing them into his hand.

He looked up, surprised and a little relieved. "Thank you. I'm sure they'll help."

She was less sure, but smiled nonetheless. "Well, report if you see or hear anything suspicious. Try to capture anyone you can and we'll meet back here to question them."

They all nodded and Natasha headed first for the door. Bucky went next and Steve dropped into step beside Sharon. "We have a good plan," he told her quietly. "I'm sure it'll work."

"You don't sound happy about that," she replied, raising an eyebrow at him.

He grimaced. "I'm not happy about leaving you. I almost wish this case would drag on for a while. A couple months at least," he added with a grin.

"Me too," she admitted. "Maybe we'll find something that needs our investigation after this."

"Maybe." He offered her his arm, which she took, and they followed the others.


	16. But Then I Lost Touch

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **But Then I Lost Touch**

Bucky didn't like crowds. But they were unavoidable at an airport. The four of them separated almost immediately upon arriving, partly because none of them were going the same direction and partly because it was easier to blend in if you were alone. Attracting attention was something that must be avoided. So he slipped through the mass of people and tried not to think about the last time he'd been in Madripoor.

The seat assigned to him was fortunately in the aisle and he feigned sleep to keep his neighbors from striking up a conversation. Not that he unilaterally kept from speaking to strangers – he was just in no mood to do so now. When he'd been in Romania, he was friendly enough with the people in the surrounding apartments. And with the local shopkeepers. But there was always the chance that this had been the reason he'd been recognized and found after being framed for planting a bomb. So the idea was hardly tempting now.

It had been nice, pretending to have a real life, pretending he could live like a normal person. Hold down a job. Make himself at home. Try his hand at cooking with modern appliances. But he'd known it was just pretend, just a game, because his past was sure to catch up to him eventually. So it was with resignation, not surprise, that he'd seen his face on a newspaper and found Captain America in his kitchen.

He didn't want to think about that. About the running and the fear, and the increasing realization that these people wanted him dead. Not arrested, not in jail. Dead. The fight at the airport had pitted hero against hero. No one had been in more danger than he had. They were friends, allies. They just wanted to capture or stop the other side. But there was no doubt in his mind that T'Challa would have killed him if given the chance. And then, later, Stark.

Being back on a mission was a relief. This was something he could do. He knew the stakes, he knew what he was looking for, he knew ways of preventing history from repeating itself. This was a job he had done himself and he had little doubt he could stop it. There were no superpowered strangers out for his blood this time. Well, as far as he knew, he thought bitterly.

Finally, they landed and he pushed away his dark thoughts. Soon he'd be asleep again, and all of this would seem like a dream. Hopefully a good dream, if he was successful. It was pleasant to be working with Steve again, after all. And seeing him navigate liking a girl was endlessly entertaining. She was quite charming and seemed like a good fit for Steve. It was nice working with her, even if it required him to remember things he wished he didn't.

Natalia was a different story. She was friendly and joking when Steve or Sharon were around, but distant and aloof if it was just the two of them. That was painful because he had something he really wanted to tell her before they put him to sleep again. How she would take it was impossible to tell, but he had a bad feeling about it. She wouldn't be putting up walls whenever he was around if she wanted to hear what he might have to say.

What would Steve say? He hadn't told him about Natalia. And it was clear she hadn't mentioned anything, either. Why not? Well, that was a dumb question. Natalia wasn't one to go talking about her past to anyone. Even Steve, presumably. Of course, after waiting this long, maybe it was best if they just swept it under the rug and didn't say anything to anyone. Even themselves.

Oh well. Time to work. He found the British consulate easily enough, though he didn't think he'd been there before. The girl at the front desk was polite and distant at first, but he got her to warm up through polite inquiry about the ambassador. She didn't tell him very much, unsurprisingly, but enough for him to go on. Enough for him to start the next step.

* * *

Sharon headed to Berlin, where she currently called home, such as it was. Her apartment was much the same as it had been before. Unsurprising, since hardly any time had passed. It just seemed like a lifetime ago that she'd lived here and gone to work every morning, at least tangentially involved in the search for the three fugitives she'd just left behind.

She'd put in a call before her flight, so there was not much time before her meeting with some of the staff from NATO. Without knowing what any of them were planning, she couldn't determine who was the most likely target. The previous general who had been killed was from Germany, but she felt his political ideas would be more important than his heritage when it came to replicate the assassination from decades ago.

A car was waiting for her downstairs and she climbed in after verifying it was the right one. Rehearsing what she was going to say occupied the whole of the ride, leaving her feeling mostly prepared when she arrived. She was shown into a briefing room where there were already several people.

"Good morning. I am Agent Carter with the CIA." It was always strange to call herself that. She'd been Agent 13 for far longer than she'd gone by her name in SHIELD. "We have reason to believe there will be attack on one of your generals."

"Which one?" a man with a blue tie asked.

"We don't have that information at this time. I am here to collect data on the officers who are in this city to determine the most likely target," she explained.

"Should we just take our people out of town?" a woman in a purple dress asked.

Sharon smiled slightly. "That would change the attack from a preventable one to something we could no longer predict."

There was some muttering to each other around the table and she waited patiently for them to process this.

"What do you need from us?" the first man spoke again.

"I need to know what your superiors are planning. This is a politically motivated attack so whatever pet project you've been working on is likely the reason for being targeted."

That brought another flurry of conversation. "What kind of politician have they targeted?" a different woman asked.

There was some difficulty in translating Cold War politics to what was happening today. The general who had been killed in Berlin over thirty years ago had been a voice for getting the city unified again. His death had set that back significantly. What policy would reasonably be equated with that these days was difficult to tell. She had hoped to get enough intel on what officers here were working on, and be able to narrow down who it might be.

"That's classified," she answered firmly.

They didn't like that response, but eventually gave her the materials she needed. "When is this happening?" a man wearing green wanted to know.

"The time-table is tricky, but within the week. Increase security on your people but try not to make it obvious. We want them to think they can go through with their plans," she told them. With some grumbling, they left and she was escorted back to the waiting car.

Once home again, she fought the urge to check in with Steve. Or the others. It was unlikely anyone had any relevant information yet, and they would certainly let her know when they did. She had several hours of reading to sift through before she should take a break. So talking to Steve would have to wait.

Though she worked for an intelligence organization, politics wasn't really something she followed too closely. Well, that was the idea – Aunt Peggy had always felt they should be apolitical. Most of her superiors had felt the same way, which was important. She had no interest in working for an agency that had that kind of power.

SHIELD had been getting too strong once it put the Avengers together. They worked around red tape and sometimes did things that weren't strictly legal. How much of that was HYDRA's influence and how much was just people taking advantage of the system was impossible to determine. But she didn't blame Steve for taking down what Aunt Peggy had built.

She also hadn't told Aunt Peggy afterward. It was hard to tell how much she remembered, but Sharon hadn't wanted her to be burdened with the knowledge that HYDRA was still around. That all those sacrifices during the war hadn't put an end to the organization. So, it had been even more a surprise when she'd told Aunt Peggy about leaving SHIELD to go into the CIA and gotten her full support. Not that there had been a time she hadn't gotten Aunt Peggy's full support, she supposed.

The CIA was a good company and she was glad to work there. But, since Steve asked… Would she join him in going rogue?


	17. Close to When Her Chariot

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Close to When Her Chariot**

After Steve arrived in Switzerland, he started the roundabout process of contacting Sam. There were redundancies to prevent anyone from tracing a call to their base, so it was not a place that could be called in a hurry. Hopefully that wouldn't matter. Steve checked himself into a hotel and sighed. Unlike his friends, he had very little experience investigating something like this. Usually reports were given to him and he synthesized the data. That was more his forte.

He had little doubt that Sharon and Nat would come back with full descriptions of everything pertinent to the case, if not with a prisoner or two who could corroborate their research. Perhaps Bucky would return with similar success as well – who knew? His job had frequently featured reconnaissance during the war, but that was into an active war zone. How good Bucky might be at investigating civilians remained to be seen. Steve had a feeling the Winter Soldier didn't have a whole lot of agency in his missions, so was more likely to receive information from his handlers whole cloth. Still, he hadn't seemed apprehensive at the thought of doing some investigation on his own, so he would probably be alright.

The wait was unpleasant and he longed to go for a run or something to work off this excess energy. But then he might miss Sam's call, and, anyway, he should stay hidden as much as possible. Geneva had a lot of witnesses who might report Captain America was still working. Not that he minded the world in general knowing – he just didn't want General Ross and his people to have any word of their work or whereabouts.

Finally, his phone rang. "Steve?" Sam's voice clarified.

"Yeah."

"Everything cool?"

"So far. I could use a hand, though."

"With what?"

Steve picked up the file he'd brought along of the original hit. "Do you know where I might find the Vice Chancellor of Wakanda?"

There was a pause. "No, I don't, Steve. Why you calling me for that?"

"I'm in Geneva, where there is going to be an economic summit. Ten years ago, Wakanda sent their Vice Chancellor to another one here. And she had a suspicious skiing accident. I need to know how someone could copy that now."

The sound of typing could be heard and Steve paced his room while he waited. "Wakanda has been closed off for a long time. King T'Chaka was trying to open their borders when things went down last year. Our friend T'Challa is a little preoccupied with solidifying his power, so there haven't been any diplomatic missions lately."

Steve felt his heart sink. "So it could be anyone here at the summit, or it could be a Wakandan somewhere else."

"Looks like."

"Well, thank you, Sam. I guess I'll just have to see what I can find out."

"Is Sharon with you?"

He felt his cheeks getting warm at the tone in Sam's voice. "Um, no. She's following a different lead."

"That's too bad. I'll keep you posted."

"Thanks, Sam."

Hanging up, he considered. A spy wouldn't think of this a dead end. What would they do? Go to the summit tomorrow and find out as much as they could about potential targets as well as weaknesses in security. He could do that. Maybe it wouldn't get him as much as he needed, but it was something. A good start, anyway.

Since becoming a fugitive, he'd had to learn a whole new set of skills. Captain America had originally been intended to be a symbol, after all. So those missions hadn't been particularly covert. Working with SHIELD years later had involved more stealth, enough so that he wasn't going to wear bright colors, but not as much as he'd needed to employ here lately. It had been kind of nice, being an Avenger. Getting to go out there in his costume and represent his country.

But now General Ross was in power. And maybe that meant the America he'd left behind was truly gone. He didn't really believe that, but he was afraid of what it meant. He'd read the files on how Ross had treated Bruce Banner not so many years ago, and was wary of entrusting any of his people, Wanda in particular, with such a person. The idea of accountability wasn't an unwelcome one, but he knew better than to assume that those who sought to control him and his friends had the best of intentions.

Which was why he was holed up in a hotel room, hoping to glean enough intel to prevent a tragedy, instead of being welcomed as a hero and given whatever he needed. Oh well. He knew how to work for a living.

* * *

The sky was dark with rain clouds when Natasha arrived in London. She looked up and smiled when a few drops hit her face. Rain was preferable to snow. There had been more than enough snow in her life. The weather quickly became heavier than just a few sprinkles, and she hurried to find a cab, not an easy task. No one wanted to be a pedestrian in this. She was eventually successful, and, after the usual meandering route, she arrived at a pub she had not entered in a long time.

Pulling her jacket collar up did little to prevent rain from running down her neck, but it was a short walk from the curb into the building. She resisted the urge to shake off like a dog as soon as she got inside, and headed for an empty seat. It was pleasantly warm, given the fire, though the resulting atmosphere was rather dim. Just like how people in her line of work preferred it.

The empty seat was next to a man in his mid-fifties, who had clearly been there for a while. He was singing to himself and hunched over his drink. The bartender was watching him dubiously, clearly considering cutting him off.

"Looks like I should come back later," she said to him quietly.

He glanced up at her, the alertness of his eyes belying his general demeanor. "Where would you want to go in this mess?" he slurred.

"A bourbon," she addressed the bartender before turning in her chair to appraise her companion. "I'm concerned about the lilies."

"They don't do well this time of year," was his sober reply.

She smiled, leaning over the counter to minimize the likelihood of their being overheard. "How's the agency?"

"How's yours?" he responded coldly.

"Gone. For a while now. Don't you read the papers?"

He snorted. "I've got papers enough to read, girl."

"Of course," she agreed smoothly, taking a swig of her drink when it arrived. "You've heard of the Soviet boogeyman come to life, though, haven't you?"

"It's possible."

"He killed one of your people about twenty years ago. They found him in his own bathtub."

"My people get found in their tubs all the time. Retirement isn't an acceptable option for most of the chaps," he said dismissively, though there was an edge of his voice.

Her patience was wearing thin, possibly a side-effect of her whole situation in life at the moment, but he was the only contact she had in MI-6 who was still willing to meet with her. "This wasn't a suicide."

"What about it, then?"

"I have a feeling that another of your people might meet the same fate if we don't do something about it."

With a snort, he took a few gulps of his beer. "What are we going to do, keep everyone from bathing?"

"It's a start," she replied, unperturbed.

He rolled his cup between his hands a few times then stood up. "Come with me."

Paying for her drink, she hastened to do so. Outside, with the rain pouring down, she could hardly hear a thing. He walked down a few blocks at a leisurely pace, as if the water wasn't rapidly soaking through his collar and shoes like it was hers. It was unlikely that anyone would be following them, but she kept a lookout just in case. Without warning, he came to a stop in the eaves of another building.

"You're saying the Winter Soldier killed my mate Ben?"

"Yes."

"And you think he's going to do it again, do you?"

"No, of course not. But someone seems to be putting together an album of his greatest hits. We're concerned."

"Who's we?" When she didn't answer, he laughed. "Alright, Romanoff. Ben was a good egg, rising fast through the ranks. You want me to find someone who matches his description for you?"

"Please."

He pulled his coat up around his ears and nodded. "Get out of this muck. I'll send word when I find something."

"Thank you." Satisfied, she allowed herself a smile as she watched him go. Then the uncomfortable dampness of her toes was brought to her attention, and she left, seeking somewhere to dry off.


	18. A Chariot Pulled by Cats

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **A Chariot Pulled by Cats**

After five days, Steve was getting frustrated. He'd checked out security and tried to identify a reasonable facsimile of the Vice Chancellor of Wakanda ten years ago. As far as he could tell, no one fit the bill. Which stressed him out to no end. What would he do if an attack happened and he had been right here, but unable to act?

It was next to impossible to get close to any of the dignitaries, and he'd been spotted more than once when he tried to follow them. That was some comfort – if the security noticed him, surely they would notice anyone who had less positive intent. He couldn't, of course, say who he was or why he was here, making things much more difficult than most of his work. But he kept trying.

Calling in Clint would probably be the best course of action, but he wasn't going to directly involve anyone else in Sharon's case unless she asked specifically. She had told him to go here and find out what he could, and he was determined not to return empty-handed. Or worse, having failed to save whomever the target was.

So he ran around town or lingered near the hotel hosting the talks, and tried to find someone in need of rescuing. His behavior was suspicious, but hopefully no one would be too distracted by him to spot someone doing something similar. But then the summit ended. And everyone went home. He followed them to airports and train stations, keenly aware that a larger attack might be imminent. But there was nothing. That should have been a relief, he supposed, and tried not to feel so dejected and useless. Maybe the others had more luck.

The plan was to meet back at Nat's safehouse after their missions. Lacking anything else to do, he packed up and headed that way. His phone rang, but it was Sam, not who he was expecting.

"Hey, I'm a little busy," he said, lingering outside the security line at the airport.

"You might want to consider dropping what you're doing."

Instantly on alert, Steve left his spot in search of somewhere more private to talk. It wasn't easy, but he found an alcove that was passably isolated. "What is it?"

"Still in Switzerland?"

"Yeah. At the airport."

"Well, you might want to swing by here if you're done there. I sent our monarch friend a warning of what you were investigating and his people dug something up to send back. Thought you'd want to see what that fake doctor had to say when he was interrogated by an unknown."

Steve had been hoping to repay T'Challa in some way before he did them another favor. But his guilt in that quarter would have to wait. More information from Zemo took precedence, possibly even over Sharon's case. "I'm on my way."

* * *

He had been here before. The smell was familiar – scents were tied to memory. Most of his recollections had been triggered by such a stimulus. So when Bucky got to the hotel where the British ambassador was staying, he tried to stay focused against the overwhelming onslaught of memory. It took a few tries but he was eventually successful.

Unfortunately, his odd behavior was remarked upon and the doorman asked him politely if there was anything he could do for him, obviously hoping he would go away. Bucky wasn't dressed to be in such a place, but he wasn't going to leave. After insisting he was fine, he went up to the counter and waited for the young lady concierge to be finished.

"Welcome to the Grand Madripoor Hotel. What can I do for you today, sir?" she asked.

He flashed her his best smile. "My client would like to arrange a stay. A discreet stay," he clarified, winking at her.

She giggled. "Of course, sir. Discretion is our policy where our customers are concerned."

"Good, good." He proceeded to invent an employer with a number of strange quirks and necessities who would be arriving that evening.

Her face was serious as she wrote everything down on a notepad, asking questions and clarifying things when necessary. "I think we can accommodate him," she said when he finished, her smile returning.

"Excellent. He'll be so pleased. Now that business is out of the way, when do you get off?" he wanted to know, leaning against the counter.

She blushed and giggled again. "Oh, at 9:00 PM, sir."

"Maybe I'll see you then," he said with a grin, then turned away. Once he was back outside, he let himself relax a little. So, the shift change was at nine. A place like this wouldn't have the whole staff change at once, but one could still count on a general disorder between eight and ten as people came on and off their shifts. An extra person or two wouldn't be as noticeable in that time frame.

And they were clearly on the lookout for anyone suspicious. The doorman had talked to him, and he was sure a few bellhops had been watching him case the joint, as they say, while he was talking to the girl. Which meant he probably shouldn't just stroll back in through the front door when he came back. Fortunately, he'd gotten the girl to tell him about another entrance to help their guests maintain discretion.

His subtle questioning at the consulate gave him reason to believe the Ambassador was only in town a few days. The scheduled departure was for thirty-six hours from now, but it was general procedure to leave twelve hours earlier than scheduled. At least, that's what somewhere in his brain insisted. So they would probably leave tomorrow morning instead of evening, and tonight was the only opportunity available.

There was a going away dinner party tonight at 8, and that was certainly the target. If they were trying to repeat his crimes, anyway. It had been one of his few missions that wasn't required to look like an accident, more like the terrorist attack that it was. Collateral damage had been accepted if not outright encouraged. Whatever the ambassador had done to incur the wrath of HYDRA, they wanted revenge. And they'd sent in the Winter Soldier to kill everyone hand-to-hand. No bomb, no poison, not even sniping. It was one of his sloppier missions and he didn't think it meshed all that well with the others.

Which meant his copycat might not employ the same method he had. Storming in on your own was awfully dangerous, after all. He would have to be on the lookout for any kind of attack. And that was difficult to do from the outside. He needed a way into what was sure to be a very secure party.

After considering all his options, he made a call to one of the few numbers he knew.

"Barnes. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Clint Barton's surprised voice greeted him.

"You have some experience in Madripoor, right?"

"Yeah, been there a couple times."

"Any contacts that might get me into a dinner with the British Ambassador at the Grand Hotel tonight?"

Barton was silent for a long moment and Bucky began to consider how he might get around this. "I've got a friend working at that hotel. Name of Kate. She'll help you out."

"Thank you," he said with some relief.

"Cap know you're down there?"

"Yeah. Things are… complicated."

Barton snorted. "Always are. Take care of yourself."

"I will."

Finding Kate wasn't particularly difficult, and she was skeptical until he mentioned Barton. Then she sent him to join their security personnel, which was perfect. He helped them search the dining room for any implanted devices and kept an eye out for anyone attempting to incorporate toxins into the meal or the air or whatever else.

He was tense with apprehension by the time the dinner actually started, and glad there were other people around to work as well. This was a much larger party than the one he'd attacked the last time, which made it so much more surprising when the method used by his copycat was not different from his own.

First, a smoke bomb to distract them. He had to admit it caught him off-guard, but only for a moment. Grabbing a napkin to cover his nose and mouth, he ran through the smoke toward the sound of gunfire, using his left arm to shield himself as much as possible. The assailant was a small man in black clothing standing in front of the main doors. He hadn't even blocked off the kitchen entrance, where the other security officers would certainly be leading the civilians as soon as they noticed the discrepancy.

It was sloppy. Somehow, that made him angrier than the fact that someone was imitating him had. If they were going to reenact what he'd done, they could at least do it well. He grabbed the nearest table and threw it, hard. Then he went in to finish this.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Purring Will Be Returning**

Sharon woke at dawn to keep reading the files. Any of the representatives who were here would be valuable targets. None of them were sticking out as having a higher potential. She gave up on what her contacts at NATO had given her and decided to read back over the report of the original attack. It was detailed in that cold way that briefs always were. Nothing helpful there. She already knew it was a general who had been killed, shot in the head from far off.

Thwarting a sniper was far more difficult than another kind of attack would be. Making it essential that she figure out who they were after. Uncertain what she should do next, she looked up what the original general, Frank Stephens, had been doing. There had to be some reason to pick him, and maybe knowing that was the key she needed.

He was an American general who had risen up through the ranks the usual way. In fact, nothing stuck out about his background from several sources she read. He had championed taking down the wall, unlike a number of his fellows. But one article hinted at his altruistic nature in a difficult time. Puzzled, she referred to their listed references and eventually found one to explain the comment.

It turned out that the unique quality that put a target on his back wasn't any policy he was pushing in NATO. It was the fact that he worked tirelessly to get people out from behind the Iron Curtain. That was touching, to be sure, and obviously why HYDRA had sent their best to put a stop to it, but didn't really help her now.

Still, it was something to go on, and that was what she needed. After refilling her coffee, she dove back into the wealth of information her contacts had given her. There was no direct parallel to what he'd been doing, but she found a two who were also using their position to help reunite families separated by policy.

General Julian Addelman was a Canadian representative, and General Rachel Berni was from Argentina. Both were potential replacements for Frank Stephens. She hoped the fact that they were not American would not matter. Clearly these attacks were supposed to recall what the Winter Soldier had done, and his being American might come into it somehow.

There were only so many things she could guess, however, so she headed off to the building where NATO was meeting to up the security on Addelman and Berni.

* * *

The icy rain had stopped by the time Natasha got up in the morning. It wasn't exactly sunny, but certainly a pleasant day for this late in the fall. She checked her phone and was disappointed to find no messages. MI-6 kept its personnel secret so there really wasn't anything she could do without more information. The method used to assassinate the agent last time would require her to have access to the person's home to prevent a repeat, so that wasn't really an option.

Instead of dwelling on what she couldn't do, she decided to go for a walk. Clear her head. The weather was nice enough for it and she enjoyed having a chance to be outside. Going off the grid had largely meant staying inside for months on end. Her scarf and hat were sufficient to obscure her identity today, and she wouldn't be here long enough to worry about being spotted. Hopefully.

It had been nice to see Steve again. What had happened was clearly water under the bridge as far as he was concerned, and they'd fallen easily into their old dynamic. Seeing him with Sharon was pretty cute. She didn't know Sharon all that well, but it was obvious she cared about Steve. And was slightly uncomfortable consorting with known fugitives, but not enough to let it affect her work. There was a reason she'd been entrusted with protecting Captain America, after all.

Natasha remembered sharply the way Barnes had looked at her after grabbing her hand, desperate to tell her something. Something she'd rather not think about, more than likely. Other than that, he was a quiet and conscientious companion. And a useful one at that. What would he do when they finished this job? Go back to sleep? Or might he also join Steve and his band of fugitive heroes? If he did… Would she?

Her phone rang almost as soon as she returned to her room, which was convenient. Possibly too convenient. Were they watching her?

"Hello?"

"Well, Romanoff, it looks like your warning came a smidge too late."

Anguish washed through her unexpectedly at the news and she pushed it away quickly. So they weren't a step ahead like they'd hoped. That didn't mean they'd failed utterly. "I'm sorry to hear that," she said at last.

"I'm sorry to tell it. Look, if you hurry, I can sneak you in here to see the scene before they clean it up."

That was unexpected. "That would be a great help."

He gave her an address and she headed downstairs to catch a taxi. Despite the urgency of the matter, she still relied on her circuitous path to get there, so it was some time later that she arrived. Her friend was waiting for her outside and looked rather impatient.

"Took your sweet time of it, did you?" he asked gruffly.

Fixing him with her most dazzling smile, she shrugged. "You know how it is, making sure you don't get unexpected company."

His expression softened at that and he nodded. "That I do. It's on the third floor," he added, leading the way.

It was an older building, with one of those elevators you wouldn't take unless absolutely necessary. They opted to use the stairs. There were a handful of people around, taking notes, snapping photographs, the usual crime scene brigade. Except that everyone here was dressed in plainclothes instead of any uniforms. The police had not been called in yet, apparently.

One of the people, a young man in a vest, stopped them in the hallway. "Who's she?" he wanted to know, looking from Natasha to her companion dubiously.

"A friend. She's going to solve this whole mess for you, so you might as well start thanking her now."

"I've solved plenty of cases," the boy insisted, seeming much younger than she'd first supposed.

"I'm just here to help," she said, offering him the same smile that had worked on her friend earlier. It was, as usual, effective.

The young man nodded. "Alright, come with me."

She allowed herself to be led away and into the apartment. It was a small one, though she'd lived in smaller quarters. The living area combined both kitchen and den, with doors to the bedroom and only bathroom. There were more people in the latter and the young man leading her shooed them out of the way like they were flies.

Inside, the bathtub was full and there was a body floating in it. There was a head injury that could easily have been sustained by striking the side of the tub. In fact, she was almost certain that's where it came from. The force, however, might indicate that the person would have had to slip and fall backwards terribly hard. That wasn't impossible but she recognized a murder when she saw it.

The file she'd studied on the way here, describing the Winter Soldier's initial handiwork, could certainly be plagiarized to describe the scene before her. Head injury, body found in a pool of blood, allegedly an accident but enough evidence to support otherwise. She was willing to bet that this body, like the last one, would have no water in its lungs, having been dead before being submerged. Instead of drowning after being knocked unconscious by the fall, as was staged.

Well, surely not everything was exactly the same. Some difference would point her toward who was at fault for this.

"What can you tell me?" she asked the young man, who had politely let her take in the tableau in silence.

"We haven't got the medical examiner here yet, but seems he had his head smashed in and was dumped in the tub. There's a footprint outside that might prove useful." He turned and lead her to it.

The copycat was sloppier than his predecessor, to be leaving footprints. There might be other physical evidence left behind, and she convinced the young man to send her his report as well as the coroner's. After studying the rest of the scene, she headed back to her room to consider if staying here was really worth it or not.

Probably not – any information from this attack would be sent to her. And it wasn't as though there would be a future one to prevent. Well, not here, anyway. So she gathered her things and headed back to the safehouse, trying to convince herself that they had not failed.


	20. From the Other Side

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing! Cliche Melancholy - aww, thank you! I hope you continue to enjoy the mystery, and that the solution to it is satisfying :)**

 **From the Other Side**

It was okay that this felt like coming home. Like he'd been here a long time. That wasn't true, but Steve had left and returned to this base frequently over the last few months. It was comfortable, familiar, someplace safe. Thinking that wasn't letting his guard down, merely accurate.

Since he'd woken up in this century, he'd been on edge. Not every moment of it, but he was acutely aware that nothing was the same as before. Every interaction with another person had nuances with which he was not familiar, every mission was built upon a world view different from his own experiences. Working for SHIELD was not like being a soldier in the war, not in any meaningful way. Being an Avenger was a lot closer, and he had enjoyed those missions so much more.

But this probably felt the most like the job he used to have, the one he'd loved and finally felt like he'd make a difference doing. Maybe because he'd been behind enemy lines often enough, leading covert attacks (though the word 'covert' might be overstating, as Nat would say), helping people who were in peril because of the actions of his own people. There were a lot of similarities.

There was also the fact that he was in charge. Tony had sworn that he was in charge of the Avengers, too, but it wasn't the same. Tony wasn't a soldier. Sam was. Barton was an agent at least familiar with the concept of blindly following orders and expecting your bosses to know what they were doing. Strangely, Scott's criminal background made him pretty comfortable with taking on one part of a job and trusting teammates to do the rest. Wanda was a quick study, and young enough that she had few preconceived notions about how this would go.

So they made a good team. One that was easy to command to use their best strengths without ego or curiosity or what have you getting in the way. Or, of course, an unstoppable rage monster to stress about from time to time. It was hardly any wonder, then, that Steve felt more comfortable here than he had in years.

Aware of Sam's note of urgency, Steve headed directly for the briefing room. Both he and Clint were already there, clearly in mid-conversation about something.

"Hey, man," Sam said, walking over to clap Steve's shoulder.

"Hey," Steve replied, smiling and giving each of them a nod in greeting. "What is it I need to see?"

The two of them exchanged looks. "Listen, Cap, are you sure you don't want a drink or something first?" Clint suggested.

Well, that certainly didn't make him feel any better. "I'll be fine."

"You don't want to call your lady friend, let her know you got here okay?" was Sam's contribution to delaying him.

"Sam," he said flatly.

"Alright, man, but don't say we didn't warn you."

Steve crossed his arms over his chest and waited while they turned on the monitors and started a video. It was small and grainy, like it was from a hidden camera. The footage showed Zemo sitting across the table from an older woman, whose hands were clasped calmly in front of her. There were no distinguishing marks on her clothing or person to identify who she was.

Steve watched silently, jaw clenched. When it was over, he leveled a look at Sam and then Clint. "Send this to Sharon. Now. I have to go."

* * *

Natasha felt some measure of relief returning to her safehouse. It was hers, after all, and hopefully one of the others had had better luck. Even though it was colder here than in London, she took her time walking. Cold tended not to bother her. She stopped to buy a snack on the street corner near her building and then made her way upstairs, munching. Remembering just in time that she might not be the first one back, she knocked.

There were scuffling sounds inside and then the door opened. A multitude of feelings swept over her, which she quickly ignored, upon seeing Barnes.

"Hello," she said cheerfully, stepping past him.

"We're not alone," he responded in a strangely loud voice.

She looked back at him with a slight frown, then noticed a man tied to a chair in the living room. "Ah. You were more successful than I was."

"He copied my methods. Not very well. Haven't gotten him to talk, though," Barnes continued more quietly, heading for the kitchen.

It was clear that he had been working in there when she'd knocked. There were fresh ingredients and kitchen implements she didn't remember owning strewn about. "When's dinner?"

He shrugged. "Soon. I didn't know how long it would be just him and me, and I didn't want to have to leave him to resupply. Or risk having some delivery person spot him."

"Solid reasoning," she commended, leaning over the pot on the stove to sniff its contents. When was the last time she'd had something homemade? Longer than she wanted to consider, probably. "Heard from the others?"

"Not yet." He looked at her sharply, worried that their absence should concern him.

"I'm sure we will soon. We can call them tonight if you want," she offered soothingly.

With a nod, he returned to cooking. She watched him, fascinated. A diverse palate was not exactly encouraged in her upbringing, so she tended to eat what was protein-rich and easy to make. Unless she was in the field, of course, in which case she ate whatever would make sense for her cover. Watching Barnes make something that looked like it was going to be complicated was a new experience.

"How'd your job go?" he asked, sounding strained. Perhaps he didn't appreciate her scrutiny.

"Your copycat was successful. Missed him by hours," she said with a forced dismissiveness.

"I'm sorry." The look at his face as he gazed at her intently made her shift her weight. Clearly, he meant it and was wanting to assuage any guilt she might feel.

"It's not your fault," she insisted with more emphasis than she'd intended.

A grim smile crossed his lips as he turned away. "Whose is it, then?" he murmured.

"Whoever killed the guy, obviously."

"None of this would be happening if it weren't for me."

That was a dangerous line of thinking. "Whatever their reason for doing this, if it weren't for you, they'd find a different one. Some people just like killing."

"You think that's all this is? A serial killer?" he wanted to know, his expression hard.

"I expect it's something more politically motivated than that, but you never know."

He didn't pursue the topic any longer and the silence stretched awkwardly. Idly, she turned to look at his prisoner, sitting placidly in the chair. If he had struggled, he wasn't anymore. She wondered how Barnes had gotten him here without being questioned. It was probably not pleasant for the captive. She could remember having to do the same a time or two, and it often involved unwilling lack of consciousness and fitting into tight spaces.

The only sound was that of food preparation until it was ready. Barnes gave her a portion and sat down next to her, pausing just long enough for her to notice his hesitance but not long enough that someone else would have.

"Do you remember when we saw each other in Berlin?" he asked quietly as he stared blankly at his plate.

"When I let you escape?"

He shook his head, frowning. "Not Leipzig. Before that."

Of all the things she'd been through, the feeling of his metal hand on her neck shouldn't still bother her so much. Maybe it was because, at the time, she had grown soft, being an Avenger and knowing that threats far more powerful than the Winter Soldier had been dealt with by her team. And yet, there she was, about to be murdered by him, their simple plan to stop him apparently having failed.

She swallowed convulsively. "Yes."

"I just… I don't want to make things complicated for you, or Steve, or anyone. But I thought you should know that I… I do recognize you."


	21. Girl, It's Time

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing! (thank you, tajin princess!)**

 **Girl, It's Time**

Sharon personally headed the security team for Berni, determined to make the plan work. This attack would be prevented and she would catch the person send to carry it out. It was important that they not obviously be tailing Berni and Addelman, since that might deter the assailant or, worse, have them go after a different target.

The first day was exciting enough, with her checking in regularly to ensure all agents were alert and at their posts, while she followed Berni at a distance from her hotel to the meeting area and back. It was impossible to check every building along their route but she looked carefully for any snipers and ordered that both generals be surrounded by either staff or agents any time they stepped foot outside.

After a few days of this, though, she began to worry she hadn't picked the right people. Maybe this was a dead end and the copycat hadn't chosen this case. Nothing out of the ordinary had occurred and her agents were getting restless. There were better things to do than babysit a couple of folks on their way to work every day, they no doubt reasoned. Sharon tried to keep morale up, but knew the evidence supporting her theory was thin enough to engender doubt the longer nothing happened.

Which was why, after over a week, spotting a suspicious shape in a window felt like it might just be paranoia or wishful thinking on her part. Still, she wasn't going to mess this up. She let her agents know to be on guard and headed into the building herself. It was an apartment building, one she'd walked or driven past every day without paying it much attention. But once she was inside, it became obvious that it had more than its share of red flags.

It was empty. For no reason, as far as she could tell. But clearly no one lived here, and many of the doors were just hanging open. It was a perfect spot for all kinds of illegal activity. There were beer cans strewn here and there as well as evidence of drug use. She moved silently through the hallways, her weapon in hand, and listened hard.

The window she'd seen was on the third floor and she made her way there quickly. Since the door was already ajar, she pushed it gently to open all the way. There was a rifle on a tripod set up by the window. Carefully scanning the rest of the room, she was surprised and a little disappointed to find it empty.

Upon closer inspection, the rifle was ordinary and not, say, attached to a timer. Looking up in confusion, she wondered where the shooter was. There was nothing to indicate how recently a person had been here. But no one would set this up without a murderous, and immediate intent. They were probably just waiting for her people to pass by, or maybe for Addelman's to follow a little later.

A crash behind her alerted her to another presence, and she whipped around to see him standing in the doorway. He'd dropped his coffee cup at the sight of her, and took off running moments after she saw him. Fast enough that she hadn't been able to get a good look. She wasted an agonizing second trying to figure out if she should just leave this rifle here, clearly ready to kill someone, and if the man she'd seen potentially had an accomplice waiting around somewhere.

She shouted into her comms for backup as she gave chase. But somehow the culprit evaded even her agents on the ground. No sign of an accomplice, either. She took some comfort in the fact that she'd foiled the attack, but wished more evidence had been left behind. After an impatient wait, the crime scene analysis revealed that the rifle had no prints or distinguishing marks on it, and the room was clean (relatively speaking).

After doing the appropriate debriefings and writing of reports, she would head back to Natasha's safehouse. The thought of seeing Steve again was dampened by the fact that she'd failed. And impressing him with her abilities was important to her, even if she didn't intend to follow him home after this mission. Oh well. Maybe he or one of the others was more successful.

* * *

Bucky waited anxiously while Natalia stared at him. He had no idea what she was thinking and couldn't imagine how to make things right between them. However she wanted to approach this, he was willing. But she had to give him something to go on. Whether the fact that he remembered their time together in the Red Room was something she'd hoped for or something she wanted to never think of again was a mystery, and he hated the idea of forcing anything on her.

Then, suddenly, she got to her feet and headed toward the prisoner. Without a word, she grabbed the chair and dragged him easily into one of the bedrooms. The door was pulled shut with significantly more force than was necessary and she returned to sit next to him again with obvious agitation. "From what?" she asked in a politely interested tone that he didn't believe for a second. Her behavior gave away how she felt.

Well, the strength of what she felt, anyway. Anything more specific than that was difficult to tell. He smiled slightly at the thought that he'd always been guessing at her emotions, particularly where he was concerned. It had been quite a shock when she'd kissed him after a training session the first time. He'd admired her skill but hadn't ever thought their mutual admiration would change into something else. Until it did.

"From the Red Room," he answered gently.

She looked away with a grimace like the name of the place left a bad taste in her mouth, even when she wasn't the one to say it. "I see."

God, he wished she would react more. Should he let the subject drop? He'd told her that he remembered, so maybe he should just leave it up to her if it led anywhere. Onto another difficult topic, then. They had a limited amount of time alone and he wanted the past to be out in the open before Steve got back. Especially since Natalia might be joining them when they left here. And he needed to know if he should stay or go back to sleep.

"I'm sorry about Odessa. They sent me after you to prove my loyalty," he explained.

Her expression was carefully blank as she nodded. "And were you loyal?"

"No. They wanted you dead, but I couldn't do it. I didn't, um, remember you at the time, but it was important to me not to hurt you unnecessarily while finishing my mission. They punished me for that, after."

She blinked slowly and he wondered if her short responses were because she didn't think she could control her emotions any longer than that. Pursing her lips, she looked away for a long moment. "What do you want me to say, James?"

No one called him James. But he… liked the way she said it. And, anyway, now was not the time to correct her. Before he could reply, she stood up and began to pace.

"That I missed you? That our time together was one good thing in a series of bad? That I've been waiting all these years to talk to you again? That our past won't be awkward at all to bring up to Steve? That I want to continue just like before?"

Her voice was hoarse and her usually graceful movements were punctuated with violence. He stood up and waited for her progress across the room to return to him, then gently reached out to take her hands. She surrendered them after a brief moment of resistance, and fixed him with a glower. Undeterred, he looked at her patiently.

"No. None of that. We aren't the same people we were then. We aren't their tools anymore. We can be whoever we want."

"Who do you want me to be?" she asked very quietly. Her expression was more open than he'd seen it in a very long time and he was determined not to let her down. Not after everything that had happened to her, to them. He owed it to her to be completely honest, even if he was scared he'd screw it up.

He shook his head emphatically. "I want you to be yourself. I want to get to know who you are now, Natalia. Whatever else we are, let me be your friend."

There was a long pause while she stared at him, trying to read him. He hoped he didn't look like he was hiding anything from her, that he looked trustworthy. "Okay," she said at last, squeezing his hands. Then her old smile returned, if a little weaker than usual. "I could use a few more friends these days."

"Happy to help," he told her, trying to convince his soaring heart that he should manage his expectations a little better. "Now, come on, dinner's getting cold and we should probably feed the prisoner sometime tonight."

He led her back to the kitchen still holding one of her hands, and dared to hope that this might all work out.


	22. You Take Back Your Light

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing! (Cliche Melancholy - I love your description of Sharon, that's perfect, thank you! And I'm so glad you enjoyed Bucky's perspective on the last bit! It was fun to write and your comments on it definitely made my day!)**

 **You Take Back Your Light**

Natasha felt numb, but a good kind of numb. She didn't want to think about any of this, of what it could mean for the future. For her own and for that of her friends. What difficult conversations she might have to get through. Instead, she would focus on the here and now. How good the dinner James had made was, the way James smiled at her across the table. The intense relief it was to know that, for once, there weren't any secrets to be guarding. There was nothing to keep hidden now. And that was a rare feeling.

They ate mostly in silence, though she complimented him regularly, which made him smile and look away like he used to when – no, best not to let the past take over, either. No future, no past, just now. He was right about them no longer being who they were before, so it was important for her to get to know him again. This man who was like the one she'd known and been trained by, but also like the man who had been Steve's best friend. He'd had a few years to resolve the dichotomy and she was curious about how that had worked out for him.

"Shall we question your friend?" she asked as they cleaned up the kitchen after dinner. A bowl remained out to feed the prisoner and she was not looking forward to that part.

James shrugged, not looking at her. "Don't know what good it'll do."

"Best to wait for Sharon," was her suggestion and he nodded.

"It's her op," he said matter-of-factly.

Still, they couldn't just leave the man tied to a chair for who-knows-how-long while they waited for Sharon or Steve to show up. Natasha walked over and opened the door to get a better look at him. He didn't look particularly intimidating, though people usually didn't in that position. When he glared at her, she pouted at him and leaned closer.

"Now, you may not know who we are and I think you should know. I am called the Slavic Shadow, the Red Death, the Black Widow. I eat men like you for breakfast. You may think I've gone soft, working as a hero for a few years. But I can assure you that your attempts to copy my friend have not put me in the best mood.

"And that man out there? When I was first put in the field, our officers told us we should hope he was a myth. That he would never find us. We should pray we weren't stranded in the forest with the Winter Soldier. I'm sure you think you know all about him. But I think you have failed to consider how your lackluster work has made him feel."

His eyes grew wider as she took hold of his chin and smiled down at him.

"We have earned our reputations, and your work is sloppy. You wouldn't have survived a month in the Red Room. It would be easier to kill you. But we have friends coming who want to talk to you, and you should think long and hard about how you'll answer. About how quickly you're going to want to start answering. Before they leave you alone with me.

"In the meantime, you're going to do as we ask and we'll make you as comfortable as possible while you await your fate. And if you try anything…" She pulled out the syringe Sharon had given her and made sure he could see it. "This was made up to bring down our friend out there. I have no idea how it will affect someone of your stature. Do you want to find out?"

He shook his head emphatically and she stepped back.

"Excellent."

James joined her then and they removed enough of the man's bonds so he could eat. When he did so docilly, James gave her a questioning look but didn't comment on it. They tied him back up and locked him away again as soon as he finished.

"This isn't going to be fun, babysitting," James said quietly, glancing at the door before walking toward the living room.

She nodded as she followed. "Not particularly, but he seems to be behaving."

"Yes, I wonder why." He was looking at her with one eyebrow raised and she smiled sweetly in response. "I won't ask, then. So, how should we do this? Eight-hour shifts?"

"I sleep while you watch him, we switch, then we spend eight keeping him fed and decently cared for?"

His smirk was grim, but he nodded. "Sounds good. Not exactly how I'd like to spend this time," he added, his expression making her face grow warm.

She stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. "I'm sure there will be time to get… reacquainted later," she promised.

"I hope so," was his fervent reply.

Sleeping was impossible at the moment, so they stayed up for a few hours together, talking. She changed the subject when he hesitantly spoke of what they would do when Steve got back and he didn't bring it up again. All too soon, it was dinner time, and the next hour or so was consumed by preparing food for themselves, eating, and feeding their prisoner. It was easy to work with James, easier than she could remember it being with anyone. Maybe even Clint. She wasn't going to read into why. Not yet.

Unsurprisingly, he insisted she sleep first and she found that she was able to do so more quickly than usual. That was nice. And being gently awoken by him at the end of his shift was definitely pretty good, too. The hours of watching the prisoner were rather boring and made her feel like she could finally get her head on straight, but then it was time to wake James, and well, there went any progress she might have made in his absence. She was not going to complain, not when he was looking at her with those big blue eyes and making her start to wonder how many days it would take before they forgot entirely that they were on a job.

* * *

"Did you hear about the one in Madripoor?"

Neal Tapper's voice broke her concentration, and Sharon looked up from where she had been typing out the last report at her desk. "Is that the set-up for a joke?"

He smiled slightly. "I sure hope not. There was another attack planned at the hotel, targeting an ambassador. Like how the Winter Soldier did it originally, as far as we can tell."

"I see," she said emotionlessly. It had occurred to her that she might hear about one of the others indirectly, but now that it was happening, she struggled to maintain her calm demeanor. Now that she had finished her part, she very much wanted to know how it had gone for everyone else. Steve especially. "And should I fly over to inspect the crime scene?"

With a shrug, he held out an old file – the original case, it looked like. She tried to look intrigued, as if she hadn't poured over that file several times already online before sending Bucky to check it out. "Not sure it would be worth your time, but you can add it to your list. This one was not completed, though."

"No?" That was a relief. So at least someone else had been successful, to some extent.

"One of the security guards took the assailant down."

"Do we have him for questioning?" Hopefully no one being questioned would say anything too informative.

He pressed his lips together and shook his head. "Nope. Both the guard and the assailant have disappeared. No one remembers seeing either of them before. It was a new guard," he added significantly.

That looked bad. Potentially. She figured the new guard was Bucky and he'd just done what he'd gone there to do. Tapper couldn't know that, though, and most other explanations were not something she would be happy about. "Accomplices? One of them got cold feet?"

"Who knows? I'm sure you'll get to the bottom of it," he answered. "I hope you haven't unpacked yet."

"Of course not. I'll track these guys down. Thanks for the lead, Neal," she added, smiling at him.

"Sure thing, Sharon. You staying in town for dinner?"

The question was subtle and she might be reading into it, but it was important not to encourage him. She couldn't exactly tell him why she was unavailable, after all. "I'm afraid not. I've got work to do."

He smiled. "Go save the world."

"I'll try."


	23. Underneath the Stars Above

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **(Cliche Melancholy: I am delighted you found that line hilarious and in-character :D I do use the comics for inspiration, particularly for Nat, so it's good to hear that's coming through. Oh, yeah, Neal's fun. He's from the comics, too, though I haven't read many with him in them... Aww, I'm glad it was the perfect amount of fluff! I really appreciate your detailed reviews!)**

 **Underneath the Stars Above**

Steve walked hastily back toward the safehouse. Doing what Nat insisted on, doubling back, was almost painful. But it would protect his friends and he had a feeling they would need more protecting going forward. The woman in the reel T'Challa had sent might be the one responsible for these attacks, and, if so, they would probably need backup. Maybe Sharon had enough evidence for the CIA to take over and handle it, but he was willing to offer his team if they would be helpful.

Eventually, he got to the apartment building. There hadn't been any hint of someone following him and he felt reasonably hidden when he knocked on the door. Maybe it was just his imagination, but it sounded like there was a giggle right before Nat appeared in the doorway. In all the time he had known her, she had only really let her guard down completely once as far as he could tell – in Sam's house, after they'd escaped the bunker. There were plenty of other occasions where she was not putting on a show, but he still felt that it had been the only time he'd seen the real Natasha, completely open and not hiding behind her jokes or charm.

So it was strange to be reminded of that moment right now, when she immediately made a joke upon seeing him.

"Elsa's back. How was your kingdom of isolation?" she sang a little tunelessly, and giggled again.

He was momentarily speechless to hear Bucky laugh behind her. "What?" he asked.

"There hasn't been a lot of options on TV. Don't worry about it. Come on in, we were just starting lunch."

She turned around and walked back to the kitchen, where Bucky was working on something. It was strange to see them so amicable together. "How long have you been here?" he wanted to know, mystified by this substantial change in at least Nat's behavior. Bucky's was less marked a difference.

"Two long days. We may be going a bit stir-crazy, since we can't leave," Nat explained.

"Why not?"

Putting down her knife, she walked over to a bedroom and pushed open the door, revealing a man tied to a chair. "Babysitting isn't usually our purview. I haven't been able to get ahold of Sharon. Really hoping she'll show up to take him off our hands soon."

"How did you – ?" Steve trailed off, surprised when she shut the door and returned to the kitchen.

"The Winter Soldier here saved us all," she said with a grin.

The blush that spread across Bucky's face was something Steve didn't think he'd ever seen before. "I just… remembered how I did the job before and the idiot tried it the same way," Bucky explained a little uncomfortably.

"Yeah, well, you were more successful than I was. And presumably more so than Steve, here. You with us, Cap?"

"Um, yeah. It turned out no one at the summit was targeted."

Nat frowned at him. "What took so long for you to get back here, then?"

"Sam had something we need to see," he said seriously. "About Zemo."

Bucky and Nat exchanged a glance, which was new. Probably good, though it made him acutely aware of how much he wished Sharon were here. "Right now?" Bucky asked, his smile vanishing like it had never existed.

"I suppose we can wait for Sharon," he offered dubiously, watching them.

"Well, let's hope she hurries, because I'm tired of cooking for some HYDRA goon," Nat said lightly.

That brought a snort from Bucky. "Oh, yes, I'm sure you've been slaving away in here."

She grinned at him cheekily. "Fine, you helped, too," was her soothing response as she winked at Steve. "Why don't you go give Sharon a call and maybe she'll pick up, if it's you."

That would give him the opportunity to process whatever the hell was going on here, so he nodded and headed into the unoccupied bedroom. It was great to see Bucky smiling, and Nat, too, but he couldn't imagine what could have happened in the last two days to make them so friendly with each other. Although, he could remember being holed up in a place for days at a time during the war and the resulting erratic behavior of everyone involved. So maybe it was just cabin fever, like Nat said. Still… It was clear that she trusted Bucky in a way he doubted she had before. Which was something of a relief.

Sharon picked up on the fifth ring, just when he was thinking she wouldn't. "Hi, Steve."

What a lovely voice she had, especially when she said his name. "Hi, Sharon."

"I just landed, so I should be there in an hour or so. How are things?"

He figured he'd let her discover their friends' strange behavior on her own. Maybe she could make more sense of it. "Bucky got a prisoner and I have some footage we need to watch."

"Is everyone else back?"

"Yeah." It would be dumb to say he missed her now. He could just wait to tell her in person. Right? "How was NATO?"

"We found the operative before he finished the job, but he got away. I'm glad Bucky was more successful."

He nodded, which of course she couldn't see. "I, uh, I'm looking forward to seeing you." After over a week without hearing from her, he hated the thought of her leaving again.

"Me too. I have to get in a cab now. We'll talk soon, Steve," she told him gently.

"Okay," he replied, like an idiot. "Talk to you soon."

The line went dead and he took a deep breath. He'd better go out and enjoy his friends' odd but cheerful mood while he could, before they had to work again. Though that would be something at which he knew he could do well. Unlike certain other aspects of life.

* * *

Bucky had planned to spend a few days in the safehouse alone with the prisoner. There was no way of knowing when the others would be back, and he certainly wasn't going to call and insist they come back early. So it had been something of a shock when Natalia returned only an hour after he did. Perhaps it was why he had forced himself to tell her right away. Because maybe the others would return soon, too.

They didn't however, and the following forty hours were a gift. Yeah, there was a hapless prisoner they had to get way too familiar with, but she was there by his side the whole time, helping and joking and making even the worst chore something pleasant. After their initial discussion, neither of them brought up their history in any way. Mostly they talked about how amazing it had been to finally be free of their handlers and live on their own.

There were a lot of simple joys in life that they could choose once no one was choosing for them. She talked about eating whatever she wanted, buying clothes to wear for fun instead of a mission, staying up late to watch television. He told her about getting a job, cooking for himself, reading the newspaper every day. It was astonishing to remember young Natalia, newly minted Black Widow, daring to talk about what her future might hold, and be able to find out what she had managed to do in the time since their masters had forced them apart.

He didn't know why she left Russia, what drove her to abandon what she'd trained all her life to do. Defecting wasn't in her nature – she was an extremely loyal person. He wondered what might have driven her to it, then, but he wouldn't ask. If she wanted to tell him, she would. For now, though, it was great to talk to someone who could really understand what it was like adjusting to the real world after being someone else's weapon.

When Steve showed up, he was delighted that Natalia remained more or less herself, instead of her usual façade returning. When she got Steve to leave the room under the clever pretense of calling Sharon, she stopped what she was doing to look at him intently.

"Do you think we should tell him?"

"That we're friends now?" he asked innocently.

That brought a smirk to her lips. "Yes. I think he might be insanely jealous and we should keep it to ourselves."

"Exactly," he said, grinning. Then he sobered. "I don't know how he'd take it now. Why didn't you tell him before?" During those years of opportunity.

She shrugged. "What did it matter, if you didn't remember?"

It was a good point, but he looked at her slightly pained expression for a long moment. "I think… I think it won't matter, going forward, do you? Whether we knew each other when we were just weapons to be used, or if this is the first time we've spent together." He hoped she felt similarly about the last two days.

Her expression became wistful and she stood up on her toes to kiss his cheek, and he was as delighted this time as the last time she'd done it. "You're probably right, James."


	24. I Said, No, Stop, I Am Not Giving Up on

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing! (Tajin Princess - they are, aren't they?)**

 **I Said, "No, Stop, I Am Not Giving Up on Us"**

He remembered, oh, bozhe moi, he remembered! The thought was impossible to suppress, and the long hours on her own while he slept were the only time she gave into it. Most of her life had been about gathering information and using it effectively. But this… She didn't know what to do with this. Once, a long time ago, she'd been carefully trained and controlled so she could serve Mother Russia. And, when she'd proven herself in the field, she'd been sent to train with the infamous Winter Soldier.

At their first meeting, he'd said they should bring him more agents like her. It was not often that she heard compliments and that one meant a lot. She contrived ways to spend more time with him, telling herself it was because of all that she could learn from the American. But that wasn't the only reason. He was unlike the other people in her life. Rather than fearing failure, he shared her confidence in success and zeal to impress their masters.

How strange it was, then, that they chose to disappoint them instead. He talked about vague memories of another life and it had occurred to her for the first time that maybe there were other options for her. That she didn't have to stay here, serving these harsh and unforgiving people, for the rest of her days. That her intense devotion toward the cause was not returned. That she was just another tool they used, and could be discarded at a whim.

Then the masters found out. And dragged her along to see how thoroughly they could punish those who rebelled against them. She'd watched in horror as he screamed, and, when they were finally done, he didn't know her anymore. After that, she was loyal with single-minded intensity, as far as any of them could tell, while she waited for an opportunity to escape. And then she'd never looked back.

When the Winter Soldier appeared as if from a nightmare outside Odessa, she'd resigned herself to her fate. It had been like waiting for the other shoe to drop for all the interceding years as she expected the Red Room to try to get revenge on her. But he hadn't killed her. He'd had the chance and hadn't taken it. The weeks she spent recuperating in hospital beds were a torment of wondering why. A manic search to find him again, to rescue him, was eventually stopped by Clint, who talked her out of it when it became fruitless. After that, she'd built up her armor enough so that seeing him again, five years later, she'd felt almost nothing.

Finding out who he had been before was a shock, but she had resisted even the urge to learn whatever she could about Bucky Barnes. Such a quest had proved more painful than useful the last time. And, anyway, the man she loved wasn't real, and was certainly long gone. Why break her heart over again?

But he remembered! And, maybe, still felt something for her. Well, who she'd been then. He was right to say they were different people now, and would have to rekindle their friendship before considering anything else. That was alright, she was still smarting from her recent losses. Being his friend would be good enough for now.

In any case, it was a relief to focus and get back to work. Steve arrived not long after she woke Bucky on the third day, Sharon arrived an hour after him, and then they could no longer put off watching the video Steve had brought. They all settled in the living room, around the television, and tensions were high. The screen flickered to show the holding cell containing Zemo, as a woman walked in and sat down at the table nearby. Natasha felt the breath go out of her, barely noticing when the same thing happened to James beside her.

"Nat? Bucky?" Steve's worried voice broke through her thoughts. He had been standing, and had a good view of both them and the television.

"I know her," she said, at the same time James did. They looked at each other and she supposed their past might be coming up after all.

Sharon stopped the recording to look at them intently. "Who is she?"

Pursing her lips, she glanced at James to see if he was going to answer. He gave her a nod and she resisted the urge to sigh. "We called her Barabal. It means foreigner, so it might not have been her real name. She worked on a program that would follow our – the Black Widows – accomplishments in the field. With male agents instead."

"Was she successful?" It was clear that Sharon was thinking about the recent attacks and the fact that the culprits seemed to be male. Not that such a thing was particularly remarkable. The Black Widow program was special for a reason.

"No. The department that ran the Red Room and other projects was struggling after the Soviet Union fell. They ran on fumes for over a decade, but there was no reason to start something new. Especially when they already had us. And," she paused, giving James a sidelong glance. "A more reliable agent."

He smirked. "She was around, watching me, for a few of my missions. Never knew why."

Sharon and Steve exchanged a look that she couldn't quite follow. "Did either of you know her personally?" Steve asked.

Her nostrils flared as she considered. "I had a run-in with her once. She wasn't a fan of mine."

"Should we wait and watch later?" Sharon suggested.

"It's fine," she insisted, settling back on the couch. She could keep the memories of the Red Room at bay.

* * *

It seemed like life now was just going to be one shocking memory after another. Maybe he would go back to sleep after this anyway, if only for a break from that. The woman interrogating the doctor – Zemo – was familiar but only in passing. Natalia's reaction to her had been much stronger and he had a feeling she was leaving some things out of her calm explanation of who the woman was. It wasn't his place to press her for details, plus she would certainly volunteer as much information as was relevant to the case. So he wouldn't say anything.

The woman began to speak and they all listened, rapt. "Good morning, Colonel." Zemo did not reply, just regarded her. "I am, no doubt, known to you. I have waited a long time to speak to you." She paused and waited but he continued to be silent. "I'm here to help you, to help you complete your mission against the Avengers."

He snorted derisively. "I've done nothing against them."

Her smile showed she understood his preference not to admit anything. "Of course, Colonel. They are divided, but not permanently. You have not gotten your revenge."

"You think you can do better?" he wanted to know.

"I think I can exacerbate the wounds you started. If you will help me."

He watched her for a long time, then looked around the room suspiciously. The camera through which they were watching this escaped his notice somehow. "I am a bit tied up at the moment."

That made her smile widen. "All the more reason for you to let me help you. I need only one thing from you."

"And what is that?"

"Access to your decrypted files." He considered and she pulled a device out of her pocket. "I arranged for there to be no witnesses to my little visit, but just in case," she explained. Whatever she did made the screen go black.

"That's it," Steve said quietly.

It was safe to assume that Zemo had talked. What exactly was on those files that she would want was a mystery, but one they might just be able to solve. Bucky looked appraisingly up at Steve and Sharon, whose expressions were resigned as they met each other's gaze. Then he glanced at Natalia, who was staring into the middle distance, clearly deep in thought.

"Should we send this to your people with the prisoner and let them handle it?" Steve asked.

"Where did you get this?" Sharon replied.

"From T'Challa."

Her expression twisted into a wry smile. "That might be fine. I'm not sure how I can explain the prisoner, though. Perhaps… Perhaps it would be easier if we handle this ourselves." It was clearly a concession for her and she looked torn up about it.

"If you think that's best," was Steve's reply, sounding more cheerful about it than he had any right to be. "Let's go see what Bucky's captive has to say."

The two of them left, glancing back but not insisting that he and Natalia join them. Interrogation wasn't exactly his forte and he was uninterested in leaving the room. At least right now. "You okay?" he asked her gently.

She turned to face him. "It's always rough, when old ghosts come back to haunt you."

He nodded, and hesitantly put his arm around her. "Maybe not all the time," he offered, pressing a kiss to her hair as she leaned against him.

He could feel her chuckle against his chest. "A pretty pleasant one comes to mind, James," she agreed quietly.


	25. And I Am Not Going Anywhere Soon

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **(Cliche Melancholy - Lol, yeah, BuckyNat are very cute while they were on their own. I'm sure Steve's relieved not to be a third wheel to them anymore :P Wow, thank you! I've worked hard to find that balance :) Your guess is correct about Barabal! Good job! I'm delighted you're enjoying BuckyNat! And I hope you enjoy this scene you've been waiting for!)**

 **And I Am Not Going Anywhere Soon**

It was a relief that her teammates had found more success than Sharon had. Of course, she wasn't really unsuccessful. Just failed to make any progress. That didn't bother her much. Natasha was acting strange and she was a little concerned that the more pronounced failure on her part of the job was getting to her. Though that wouldn't explain everything. There seemed to have been a significant change in her behavior toward Bucky, for whatever reason.

After they watched the footage Steve had gotten via T'Challa, which may or may not be something she could submit to her superiors, it was time to question the prisoner. Perhaps he could give them the rest of the picture, and this whole business would be over soon enough. Steve explained that Bucky had brought him in, after correctly predicting how he would accomplish the job. They all had reports of the attacks, but she had expected being the person who had done them originally would be the most useful. From a strictly professional sense.

"They're not coming?" Sharon asked Steve in a low voice, nodding her head toward their companions.

"I guess not," he replied, glancing back. "They're a little… different, right?"

She smiled at his perplexed expression. "Yeah, definitely. Mainly Nat. I didn't think she was going to let bygones be bygones with him."

"They were here a couple days on their own, apparently."

"Ah," she said knowingly. He shot her a skeptical look and she figured she'd better explain before he read something else into it. "Being stuck with someone usually makes you either form a lasting bond or try to kill each other. I suspect the tension came to a head and they moved past it. Fortunately for us."

His expression was thoughtful as he pulled the door shut behind them. "Fortunately," he echoed, then turned his attention to the man tied to a chair. "We have questions you're going to want to answer.:

The man was in his late twenties or early thirties, and she would have thought he was well-built if it weren't for present company. His hair was dark and his brown eyes glared at them. Beyond that, she couldn't tell too much about him, bound and gagged as he was. It didn't seem like he had much he wanted to share with them, which was surprising given the length of time he'd apparently been here. Perhaps Bucky and Natasha had been too soft on him.

She pulled off his gag in one quick motion. "Who are you working for?"

"A stranger," he said and laughed.

Steve met her gaze and she shrugged. "The Russian woman. What's her name? How is she going to finish what Zemo started?" she tried.

"Why would I tell you?" he snarled.

There weren't any other chairs in the room, so she seated herself lightly on the foot of the nearest bed. "Because you failed and I don't think she's the type of person to welcome failures back with open arms. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if she planned to kill you for it. Especially if she finds out you were with us for so long."

"She'll assume you talked. So you might as well tell us what we want to know and get yourself a nice deal out of the whole thing," Steve added.

This thought had clearly occurred to their prisoner and she was pleased to see him wavering. Maybe the days locked in this room had taken an effect after all.

"You can't protect me from her," the captive said miserably after a few moments of thought, his eyes flickering toward the door as though he expected his mistress to appear out of thin air.

"Of course we can. We caught you, didn't we?" Sharon told him.

"And my friend here foiled one of her other attacks," Steve added, sounding proud.

She smiled at him briefly for the compliment. "I can't go into specifics of who, but there are some of the best heroes in the world here in this apartment. They won't let anything happen to you. If, of course, you make it worth the effort."

The whites of his eyes showed but he seemed a little calmer, no longer glancing at the door every couple of seconds. He licked his lips before he spoke. "I don't know much. She keeps things hidden. I only know her reputation. But you'll protect me?" he clarified cautiously.

"Yes," she promised.

He rocked back and forth a little before finally spilling all that he knew. It was just the break they needed.

* * *

Steve watched as Sharon expertly questioned their captive. He helped when he could, but it was nice to see her work. It barely took any time at all before the man was willing to tell them everything. Of course, there was the distinct possibility that Bucky or Nat (or both) had done any number of things to get him ready for this. There was only so much a person to endure, and the relatively sloppiness of the attacks they'd investigated made it seem like these people weren't as organized as they wanted to appear.

"During the Cold War, there was a theory. That one agent in the right place, at the right time, with the right skills, could be more effective than an army. Barabel still believes that. She was one of the first Black Widows, they say. When she was no longer useful as an agent, she worked on training new ones. But she was dissatisfied with her masters and wanted to start her own program. So she left Russia and started recruiting. We've been training for years. To show us off, we have been proving we can do as much as Russia's most famous agent can do," he finished with a touch of pride.

Sharon snorted. "Who were you trying to impress? Because none of those cases are confirmed done by the Winter Soldier. People barely believed in him until recently and he's a suspect on hundreds of cases."

The prisoner drew himself up indignantly, which was almost funny to watch while he was tied to a chair. "Barabal knows all of Department X's secrets. You must expect things to get nasty if you go after her."

"I'm sure," Steve murmured, looking at Sharon.

"We'll be prepared for that," she assured the captive.

He spoke a little more, but there wasn't much that was helpful in his speeches. He claimed to have been recruited against his will from another agency, but clammed up when they pressed him about that. In any case, the man was clearly afraid of his mistress and certain she would search for him when he didn't return. Which meant she was searching already.

They left him alone again and headed back to Nat and Bucky, who were in the kitchen now. It didn't take long to catch them up to the situation. Neither seemed to be much affected by the news, not like how Nat had reacted to the footage before.

"I'm sure I wasn't followed," Bucky said flatly.

"Of course not, but you never know what tricks she might have used on your captive. Tracking implants, for example," Nat told him, to which he nodded thoughtfully.

"Natasha, we appreciate your hospitality, but I don't think we should stay here any longer," Sharon put in quietly but firmly.

Steve regarded her. "Where should we go?"

She shrugged. "I think I can take in our prisoner for the CIA to keep an eye on him, hopefully avoid any kind of international incident. Maybe I can even convince them to chase this whole thing down."

Her expression did not show her great faith in that idea. "There are other options," Nat offered, sounding quite ruthless.

"Yeah?" Sharon asked.

"Like you said, we can take care of it ourselves. The only way to be sure that future cases were initially done by the Winter Soldier is to ask him, which isn't something the CIA can do. I know more about Barabal and have more Russian contacts than your people are likely to. At least on the inside. And Steve, well, he's just a generally useful person," she added with a broad grin.

"You know what, Romanoff," he replied with a mock frown.

"Just the four of us, handling this?" Sharon questioned a little dubiously.

Steve cleared his throat. "I have some friends who would love to help."

"See, useful," Nat said triumphantly, making Bucky laugh.

It was obvious that Sharon was too deep in consideration to join the teasing. "Alright, Steve. Let's go see your friends," she said at last.

He smiled.


	26. Help Me Bring in the October Moon

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **(Cliche Melancholy - They are definitely in the Good Cop category! And I'm glad you appreciate their low-key sweetness :) Very good points! I hope you enjoy reading to find out!)**

 **Help Me Bring in the October Moon**

This wasn't going to be easy, but it was necessary. They couldn't just drag a prisoner along with them, especially if they were going to Steve's secret hideout. Sharon had to take care of this – she was the only one with the resources to do it. Still… There were a lot of compromising things the man could say that could get her in trouble down the line. She would just have to hope that the promise of being kept safe from Barabal would keep his mouth shut regarding with whom she was working on this.

Oh well. Time to make a phone call. "Tapper, it's Carter," she said when he answered.

"That was fast. You find the guard already?" he asked, sounding surprised.

"I've been working on it, but nothing so far. I do have a location on the agent who got away from us in Berlin. Can you send a team?"

"Of course."

She gave him the address of Natasha's safehouse, as was the plan. Natasha had been less than thrilled with the suggestion, but they were in a hurry. Though their prisoner was unable to identify a timetable, there were only so many agents left to complete their missions. And the woman might speed things up given the recent wrenches they'd managed to throw into her plans. Sending the CIA after their prisoner by claiming he was the same man from Berlin would hopefully cause them to realize, after questioning him, that there was a network of agents completing these crimes. Hopefully.

If not, well, then Steve's team could help them keep things handled. Explaining everything in her reports at the end of all this was going to be a challenge, but it was worth the risk. Nat was right about continuing to include herself and Bucky – no one else could be as good a source as they were. Even if that meant they might be more at risk of being a liability if they came in contact with Barabal herself.

"Need anything else?" Tapper asked.

Well… Should she just entrust all this to her superiors? Tapper would help her any way that he could, and surely she could come up with a way to have gotten her information without divulging her sources. And then they could go safely back into hiding while she finished the case. But maybe she was still a little angry about how she'd been treated after the last time. Maybe she wanted Steve and his friends to have a chance to prove their worth. Maybe she thought it could change something.

In any case, she told Tapper no and hung up despite the sick feeling in her stomach. She headed to the living room, where Natasha was sitting, reading something on her phone. Steve was contacting his people in the other bedroom and Bucky was in the kitchen.

"You alright?" Natasha asked without looking up.

"Probably."

Natasha's expression was skeptical. "Second thoughts?"

"Yeah. Accusations of vigilantism is how all this started."

"That's true. But it is your job to investigate these cases, isn't it?"

Sharon raised an eyebrow. "Yes."

"And someone with your rank would have leave to use whatever resources you see fit."

A slight smile crossed her face. "Theoretically."

"I'm sure you have other contacts not necessarily on the right side of the law. Ones you've used to solve cases before," Natasha tried again.

"I have," she admitted.

"Just think of us as that, then." She must not have looked convinced, because Natasha pursed her lips then continued. "One time, I was sent to investigate a crime lord no one had been able to pin anything on. The only tactic that proved effective was when I went undercover to get close to him. Entering his operation was how I brought it down. People in our line of work do that all the time. When you go back and submit your report, you can just say you were undercover and that you don't want to compromise your contacts by revealing their names or locations."

With a shrug, Sharon let her smile turn a little wry. "I'm already on thin ice, Natasha. I don't know if that'll fly."

"Well, we'll think of something else, then," she replied, patting her on the shoulder as she stood up. "But you know that we can handle this better than your people can."

Sharon watched her walk away, thinking that it was unfortunately true. Too bad the folks in power didn't understand that. It would make things much easier for all of them.

* * *

Natasha wasn't an excitable person. There were not many circumstances that could break her calm demeanor. But the thought of getting to see Clint again was getting close. So unlike James and Sharon, who both looked increasingly nervous the nearer they got to Steve's hideout, she was smiling and making jokes. That helped Steve stay positive, too, which was nice. Whether he was concerned about including his team in the investigation, or letting she and Sharon know where the hideout was, or even just worried about Sharon seeing where he lived, she had no idea.

To her surprise, the hideout they were using was one to which she'd been before. Not in a very long time. But trust Clint to remember such a place. It was hidden in a forest and took a long drive on a dirt road to reach. She wondered if that would be a problem in the coming winter months. They were all very quiet as they approached and she stopped doing anything to relieve the mood, more interested in seeing their reactions.

The building was a single story so the trees provided cover from any aerial investigation, but she knew it had significant floor space underground. What they could see appeared to be hardly more than one room. "It's bigger on the inside, I take it?" she asked lightly.

Steve was parking in a camouflaged carport, alongside several other vehicles, and turned to smile at her. "Yeah, it is."

They all climbed out and headed inside, Steve walking over to take Sharon's hand. James was next to her, but didn't do the same, which was too bad. Now was not the time to comment on it. Perhaps he was fretting about having to explain their relationship, whatever it was, to the rest of their friends. However she was feeling about him, she wasn't going to push. These were people she'd known a long time and she was comfortable enough to be herself around most of them. It made sense if he didn't feel the same way.

"I was expecting you an hour ago," Clint called from where he leaned against the doorway. He smiled at her, and she ran over to hug him.

"Steve drives like he's, well, like he's ninety," she teased, grinning.

"I can imagine. Hey, Cap," he added as he shook Steve's hand. "Sharon, Bucky," he continued with a nod to each of them.

"Are you going to give us the tour?" was her question.

He smiled slightly. "Maybe some other time. We've got something from Wanda, Cap."

Steve's expression was very serious, what she thought of as his Captain-America-face, and he nodded. "Alright, I'll be right in. Let me just take them downstairs."

They headed inside and Clint disappeared into a room immediately to the right that contained a lot of monitors and other tech. The stairs, the only other exit on the short corridor, were directly ahead, and Steve led the way down them. It opened onto a pleasant living area, with quite a few doors off of it, presumably leading to bedrooms and a bathroom or two. She couldn't remember exactly from her rather brief visit with Fury some years ago. Sam Wilson was reading on the comfortable-looking couch, but he stood up when they arrived.

"Hey, Sam," Steve said warmly, shaking his hand too. "Clint's got something for me, so," he trailed off, pointing back upstairs.

"So you want me to entertain our guests?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow dubiously.

Steve looked sheepish. "I mean, if you're not busy."

Sam gave a longsuffering sigh. "Fine, go save the world."

"I'll try," was Steve's flippant response as he left them.

"Sharon, Nat, always a pleasure. Barnes."

James grinned at the cold reception. "Hey, man."

"Alright, there's not much to see here. It's important to keep working so you don't go insane in the enclosed space. I'm talking to you, Barnes," Sam continued, gesturing eloquently.

"I'll do my best," James promised.

Sam showed them around the small headquarters, which mostly meant the bedrooms. There were a few empty ones, which was fortunate. Wanda and Scott were on a job, apparently, so were not present. Natasha couldn't help but feel a little relieved at that, her initial excitement having faded a bit. She didn't know Scott, and preferred not to meet anyone new at a time like this. And Wanda… Well, Wanda might hold a grudge a little more than the others. Since she had been the one most in danger, and being locked up had been significantly worst for her than anyone else. Maybe Natasha wouldn't stay here longer than was strictly necessary, then.


	27. And You Shot, Run for Cover

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **(Cliche Melancholy - I'm glad you liked Nat's reasoning :) Yeah, I'm not sure Tapper would be quite so on board if he knew whom she was helping. Though, you never know. Aww, do you think Bucky knows any Beatles songs? Because that would clearly help Nat out! Thanks for saying she's sweet! Sam is always a delight - especially when messing with Bucky. I'm sure you're right about Wanda and Scott! Thank you!)**

 **And You Shot, Run for Cover**

It felt good to be home again, such as it was. Steve went to the briefing room to see what Wanda had to say. The message was just text, no video, which was more what he was used to anyway. She reported that they had made contact and were addressing the problem. One of the things that Wanda and Scott could do more than the rest of them was be truly helpful in situations. In this case, a dam had been weakened by a recent earthquake. Scott was going to assess the damage using his abilities and Wanda would fix it with hers.

Steve knew that he did some good in the world, but his missions involved a lot more punching of bad guys than actually assisting good guys. Not in the same tangible way. It was great to have the two of them on his team, and was definitely winning them some more allies than they'd had before. Whether or not it would affect their international reputations he didn't know, but it was nice to see Wanda feel good about herself and her powers. He knew more than anyone what she was going through. He, too, had volunteered to be experimented on during a war, and tended to doubt that decision when he wasn't needed.

"How's our girl?" Clint asked.

The relationship between Clint and Wanda was interesting to watch, but Steve supposed it wasn't unlike the one the man had with Nat. Picking up enemies and making them friends/surrogate daughters was apparently his thing. It certainly was working out for him, though he probably regretted how that led him to being separated from his real daughter.

"Making good progress so far, looks like."

"Good, good."

Clint seemed far away, clearly mulling over something. "What is it?" he asked.

"Why did you bring them all here?"

"You aren't glad to see Nat?"

That brought a smile to Clint's face. "Of course I am. But your lady friend was probably better off without us."

"It was Sharon's call," he said with a shrug. "I'll help her however I can. If she wants to send me packing, I'm sure she will."

"Thirteen's a tough one. I'm just concerned," he paused, glancing toward the door. "Seems like everyone might be a little… compromised from all this."

Steve followed his gaze, digesting the idea. He was probably right. Clint usually was. "What would you suggest?"

Folding his arms over his chest, Clint regarded him with a straight face. "Buy a farmhouse."

"I'll see what I can do," he replied, smirking.

Clint let the matter drop and they focused on more pressing things for a little while. Not too much was going on that required his attention, however, so he was soon free to join his friends downstairs. Which shouldn't have made him nervous like it did. Maybe Clint was right. Maybe they should all just take up farming and retire from this. It would make General Ross and the rest of them happy, probably.

* * *

One of the most stressful parts about being in the war was the way peaceful silence could suddenly be broken into chaos and screaming. You might be holed up someplace and then, boom, there were enemy soldiers and grenades dropping in through your ceiling. Or you might be walking along, thinking about how you really needed to change your socks as soon as possible, and then the man in front of you gets shot out of nowhere, and you have to take cover before they can get you, too.

There wasn't a lot in civilian life that could compare to it, Bucky had found. And even his time as the Soldier wasn't really the same, since it was a rare and botched mission that led to anyone attacking him. If he was out of his compound in Siberia, or any of the other places he'd been kept temporarily, it was time to work and he was in the mindset for it. There were no other concerns except the ones they'd put in his head.

For two long years, he'd been in hiding from everyone. It had been hardest at the beginning, when he hadn't known where to go or what to do in a world very different from the one he only vaguely remembered. There had been a homeless population to follow and emulate for a while. When winter came, he'd found a place to stay that kept him from freezing. He hated being cold these days. Eventually he had enough to get an apartment, to make his life his own again.

But he had never been able to shake the feeling that he was moments away from having his enemies pour through the ceiling. His paranoia was higher on some days than others, but even after seven hundred days without an incident, it was never gone. Maybe it never would be. He was always waiting for someone – his handlers, HYDRA, anyone from the numerous countries around the world whose people he'd killed – to find him and make him pay.

Once, he'd gotten lost from HYDRA for several months. He'd been too confused to make good on his escape. And he never had the chance again because, later, they found out about his relationship with Natalia. Then they'd never let him free. He wore a mask and had several armed men accompanying all of his missions after that. They were unwilling to give up their valuable weapon.

Even though the news was full of what happened to HYDRA, of how it was dismantled and in chaos, he could never shake the idea that they might find him. When what he feared finally happened, it was hardly a relief to see Captain America instead of nameless goons – they'd just sent someone powerful enough to stop him. That didn't turn out to be the case, but he was still in danger, and always would be. It's why he wanted to sleep after the whole thing with Zemo was over and T'Challa gave him the opportunity. Because he thought he would never have a chance at a normal life.

He didn't mind being woken up to help his friends, especially if people were killing in his name. Treating his life like it was some kind of audition. That was something he needed to stop and would do whatever he could. The Winter Soldier was nothing to aspire to – how could that woman, who would know more about what went into making him than most, not understand that? HYDRA had broken him down until he was just a very skilled tool. No regular person could compare to that, no matter how well-trained. Unless they were enhanced in some way, of course.

But none of the men they'd encountered so far seemed to be anything out of the ordinary. They were less able to complete the missions he had, and were sloppier. That made him hope to get this over with quickly, and maybe it would be a lesson to others who might try to copy him in the future.

And then what? Sleep again? That was the plan. At least, until he'd spent two days basically quarantined with Natalia. It was the first time in as long as he could remember where he'd felt like he didn't have to hide who he was. She understood him in a way that maybe no one else ever could. It wasn't their previous relationship, though that probably helped. The same reasons they'd been drawn together then were true now. They both knew what it was like to be judged, every aspect quantified, and measured by nothing except effectiveness. But now they had more than that – how to recover and reclaim yourself.

So. Should he stay awake if it meant staying with Natalia? Of course, he shouldn't assume she planned to remain here. She'd had her own life elsewhere for at least a few months. Though she'd said enough to make it sound like she wasn't altogether happy with it, she might be planning on returning to it. If so, he wasn't going to ask her to stay. She should do whatever made her happy, and he was still a liability.

When they arrived at Steve's hideout, they had been greeted by Barton, whom he still owed a favor. He might have brought it up had Natalia not run over to the man in question, delighted to see him. It had been made clear to him that Barton had a wife and kids, so he knew there wasn't anything more to their relationship than friendship. That did little to quell the pang of jealousy that shot through him at the sight, though.

More concerning was how Sam flirted with her. He knew some of the story there, from Steve. But he was thinking maybe there was more to it than Steve had noticed, or at least mentioned. They were clearly fond of each other and, even though he really liked Sam, he couldn't help but think dejectedly that maybe going to sleep was still the best plan.


	28. I Scream, Rev the Tramp's Engine

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing! (Tajin Princess - thanks so much! That's great to hear!)**

 **(Cliche Melancholy - I am delighted to have reminded you how cool Clint is :P Yes, Bucky is smitten. And you are quite right on his progression to sleepy Bucky. Sleeping doesn't solve anything, man! Lol, thank you!)**

 **I Scream, Rev the Tramp's Engine**

Sharon wasn't usually the type of person to rethink her decisions, but being in Steve's safehouse, seeing the other fugitive Avengers seemed unreal. So many people were looking for this place and the people in it, and here they all were. It did not escape her notice that revealing the location to her superiors would certainly grant her a promotion and restore their trust in her. But she would never do that. Even if things were still strained at work, it would never be worth it to turn these people in. After all, what had they really done?

Gone after the Winter Soldier on their own? Well, yes, of course. Because he was a mythical killing machine who was unlikely to take being cornered nicely, and Steve was probably the only person who could either bring him in or bring him down relatively unscathed. Wilson had just been helping him there.

Escaped with the Winter Soldier after he attacked them all? Well, he might warrant arresting for the attack, but keeping Steve out of it continued to be an idiotic approach. Steve remained the only person capable of managing him. So it was no wonder that Steve had chosen not to return to the people who had already handled the situation poorly.

Attacked the Accords-sanctioned Avengers sent to capture them? Yes, but only because they, the former, were unwilling to discuss the intel Steve had found. Maybe there was a way things could have been deescalated before they all started punching each other, but neither side were really interested in calming down. Steve had his mission and Stark had his guilt. Natasha had done her best, but was perhaps compromised by the fear of losing these people.

However the media and the officials were choosing to spin it, Sharon didn't think there was any reason to lock these people up. All of them, both sides, wanted to protect and help as many people as possible. They just didn't see eye to eye, and without any current authority figure like Fury to guide their egos in the same direction, they had fallen apart. Ross was a poor substitute for the former leader of SHIELD. Whatever intention he had with all of this, it hadn't come off properly.

Sharon could admit to a little bitterness, and was often relieved that Ross wasn't her direct supervisor. Even if she felt like he should be watched a little more closely than he was. In any case, she had no intention of betraying Steve and his friends. Now was obviously not the time for them to come forward, and waiting for the right opportunity would only make people more sympathetic to their side of the story. Especially if they continued to do some good while they were fugitives.

When Steve returned downstairs, she offered him a smile. "You like the place?" he asked.

She was leaning against the wall near the stairwell, secretly hoping for just such a chance to talk to him alone, before the other three roped him into their banter. Well, Sam and Natasha's banter – Bucky was pretty quiet again. "It's much bigger than I was expecting."

"Yeah, it's not too shabby." He folded his arms over his chest as he leaned next to her. "Anything else?"

"This was one of Fury's secret bases, wasn't it?"

His smile broadened. "That's what I figure. Barton's keeping that kind of thing to himself."

"You can't get him to answer you, Captain America?" she asked with a wink.

He laughed, a sound she would never get tired of hearing. "I think it's best not to antagonize the only person who knows what he's doing out here."

That brought a slight frown to her face as she looked him over. "You seem like you're doing pretty well."

"It's alright," he replied quietly, looking at her very seriously for a long moment. Whatever he was going to say, he seemed to think better of, because he straightened and looked straight ahead again. "So, what's the plan, boss?"

A snort escaped her at the epithet. "If we knew who Barabal wanted to impress, we might get a better sense of where she might be located. Especially if she's already being funded to do this."

"You don't think Nat's insight was very helpful?"

"What? That's she's Russian? We can't very well wander across all of Russia in search of where she might be hiding out, Steve."

He chuckled. "That's true. But maybe she can get us more historical stuff. Like where the Red Room was and what happened to its agents when it fell."

"I suppose we might as well ask," she replied with a shrug. "Sounds like we might be in for a road trip."

"As long as you're in my car, I think that would be fun," he told her earnestly, and she felt a blush spread across her cheeks.

"Alright. Let's go ask her."

* * *

Bucky was relieved when Steve came back. At least that would get things moving and he wouldn't have to watch Sam and Natalia, trying to determine if there was more going on than old friends who hadn't seen each other in a while. He would curtail his hopes if that were the case, which maybe was something he should do anyway. Who the hell was he to be thinking of seeing a girl right now? He was too much of a mess for that. Having Natalia back in his life in any capacity was blessing enough – asking for more was foolish.

"Hey, Steve, settle something for us," Sam called.

"If it can't wait," was Steve's sarcastic reply, then he and Sharon walked over together to share the nearby couch.

"Nat here says that you want to go to the moon."

Steve laughed while everyone else looked at him appraisingly. "I didn't say that. I just said that I was made to do things no ordinary human could. Like go into space. If I hadn't gone into the ice, I would have volunteered."

"That's what I said," Natalia defended herself.

"I don't think so," Sam told her, shaking his head. "You said Cap loves space."

"It's fine," Steve interceded. "Maybe I'll get to go someday. But now we have work to do. Nat, how do you think we should track down this woman – Barabal?"

Bucky watched as Natalia's smile faded and she considered. He had little enough memory of the lady in question, and doubted any of it would be particularly useful in this situation. But Natalia had known her much longer, and might have some insight into what happened after he'd been put to sleep again.

"After the Red Room fell, everyone scattered. I'd already defected and wasn't really in contact with anyone from there. I have a few contacts now I could reach out to, but I don't know how useful that will be. Most folks tried to find other jobs in the Russian government, or bargained their way into intelligence agencies from other countries."

"What do you think Barabal did?" Sharon asked.

Natalia pressed her pretty lips together briefly. "She was high in the ranks and likely wouldn't have wanted to start over again in Russia. It seems likely that she left."

With a nod, Sharon turned to Steve. "How did she get access to Zemo?"

"I have no idea. T'Challa left his own surveillance on him, but otherwise let Everett Ross take over the case."

"She was cleared," Sam offered. "I mean, she was wearing a security clearance," he amended when they looked at him in confusion.

"You think she was authorized to be there?" Steve wanted to know, jaw clenched.

Sam shrugged. "She could have stolen it."

"She said she'd taken precautions against being heard. So she had to know quite a bit about security there," Natalia put in, earning her a pleased smile from Sam.

"Could she have joined the UN after leaving Russia?" Sharon asked sharply.

"I don't know," Natalia admitted.

"It seems like she might have," was Steve's discouraged response.

They all stared at the floor in silence for a few moments. Bucky didn't know how the UN worked, or how one went from one country to another. His experiences were generally confined to being in the field or boots on the ground. So he had little to offer the discussion at the moment. He shifted his weight, impatient to have something tangible to do. A woman who had hurt Natalia was now using his own worst experiences in a bid to prove what her people could do? It was hard to imagine a way this whole thing could get any worse.


	29. You Say, Baby, We're Too Late

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **You Say, Baby, We're Too Late**

Steve had been to New York more than once since coming back from the ice. He'd lived there for a while, in fact. But it never felt right, never like home. There was too much that had changed, obviously the location but maybe a little bit in him, too, for it to be anything familiar. In recent years, he had avoided returning there whenever possible. Now in particularly seemed like a bad time to go back.

"It's right in Tony's backyard," he said, frowning.

They were all in the briefing room – Sharon, Nat, Bucky, and of course Clint and Sam. The last few hours had been spent pouring over whatever UN records they could get their hands on. Well, more accurately, Clint or Sharon could get their hands on. Nat and Bucky were reading through old SHIELD and HYDRA files in search of any mention of their Russian friend's real name.

There had been little success all around, and Clint suggested they go to the UN headquarters and see what they could find. Steve was less than enthused with that idea, for a number of reasons. The least of which being that Tony and the other Avengers would be close by and might have no trouble identifying them. Maybe as soon as they stepped off the plane. That was too dangerous to consider.

"Look, we're not making a lot of progress here," Clint said reasonably.

Steve looked at Sam and waited for him to weigh in. "Could find some leads," he offered at last.

Sharon put down what she had been reading with a little extra force. "So she got into a secure facility she shouldn't have. That doesn't mean she's working for the UN, just that she knows how to get through their roadblocks. And, correct me if I'm wrong, Natasha, but I think her background is more than enough to explain that."

"It could be," Nat replied with a smile. "It would be child's play to get myself in to question Zemo, though I have had more field experience than I expect she has."

"What other leads do we have?" Sam insisted, glancing at her sharply. Natasha's smile grew but lost some of its warmth, reminding Steve a little of a fox.

"We might still find something," Bucky put in quietly, looking between the two of them with a thoughtful expression.

Steve cleared his throat and they all looked at him. "What do we know for sure?"

No one volunteered to answer right away, directing their gaze to the table in front of them instead. Finally, Clint was the one who spoke up. He was always good at succinctly stating whatever they were facing.

"We know Barabal is Russian and worked in the Red Room. We know she left, though we don't know if it was by force or willingly after they wouldn't fund her program. It took her well over a decade to show up again, having gotten UN security clearance to question a prisoner that no one should be allowed to question. We know she sent agents to repeat at least six jobs on the Winter Soldier's rap sheet with the hopes of impressing someone. Whether that someone is footing the bill for her already and just needed a test, or whether it's just a declaration to the world what she's capable of, we don't know."

"Very concise," Nat told him approvingly. "James here identified some more cases that were definitely his, so might be repeated in the near future."

"How would she know which ones are his?" Sharon asked suddenly.

"That's a good question," Steve replied thoughtfully.

"Maybe she has access to some files we don't," Sam said with a shrug.

Steve had spent years tracking down everything available about the Winter Soldier. Everything from the file Nat had given him to combing through information that she'd dumped online. More of his spare time than he should really admit to using was devoted to finding out whatever he could about his old friend, a small part of him hoping that it wasn't true. That Bucky had died honorably, not been captured by the Russians and used for decades against his own country.

Then he'd used that information to search for Bucky. He had no real evidence that Bucky hadn't been found by his handlers, that he wasn't working again. But he hoped. There was no sign of him for two long years and he'd almost given up. It turned out everything he'd hoped for was true – Bucky was alive, no longer HYDRA's, no longer working for anyone. Just living a normal life. Regardless of how that ended, it was a relief to know that Bucky had found some peace.

But HYDRA, and Bucky, had covered their tracks thoroughly. And even the most encrypted files didn't confirm what the Winter Soldier had been doing all those years. What assignments were considered important enough to wake him up. So he couldn't imagine where Barabal could be getting information that slipped his thorough search. Maybe they were at a dead end after all.

* * *

Natasha wracked her brain, trying to think of something helpful. Barabal hadn't been one of her instructors, just an observer of herself and other students. She'd obviously been a generally successful staff member of the Red Room, because Natasha could remember seeing her around for years. As Natasha rose through the ranks, she could detect some animosity from the other woman. Especially after breaking trust and having a relationship with James. Barabal had almost been gleeful with malice about that.

When she was still being punished, Barabal had come to her cell more than once to taunt her about her choices, about what was waiting for her after this. There are wolves, she would say. There are stories about wolves and girls. Girls in red. All alone in the woods. About to get eaten up.

But those meant nothing. Natasha had kept her head down and didn't see the other woman again. Until she'd shown up on that security feed. How had she gotten in there? Impersonating a guard was easy enough, but she hadn't acted like it was a last-ditch effort on her part. In fact, she'd told Zemo that he knew who she was. Why would that be? Just from reading the files released from SHIELD? Why would she be in them, and why would he notice that?

"James, are you sure you don't know why she was observing you?" she asked quietly. After making no progress in their discussion, everyone had returned to reading in hopes of finding a lead.

He looked up at her apologetically. "I'm sure, Natalia."

Hmm. Well, if Barabal was asking Zemo for his files, did she mean the ones in Siberia? Those would certainly have records of the Winter Soldier's work over the years, and probably the only place to have kept track of it. But it wasn't like she would still be there, reading them. Of course, he'd only found out where in Siberia to go after questioning James. So he must have gotten ahold of something before then. Possibly something besides what was online.

"Where do you think Zemo got his information about you?"

James bit his lip. "I don't know."

"He talked about the files you released," Steve offered.

"There wasn't anything concrete on the Winter Soldier in SHIELD's databases, and the HYDRA files are what we have here," Sharon said, frowning slightly. "But he had that book. Where did he get it?"

At the mention of the thing used to control him, James stiffened and stared straight ahead, unseeing.

"James, when was the last time you saw it?" Natasha asked him gently, aching at the strength of his response.

His eyes flickered toward her uncertainly. "The man in the suit – Pierce. He didn't have it."

"No?" she murmured when he fell silent.

He nodded. "They only used it in Siberia. Or I would have destroyed it when I escaped," he added, savagely.

Ignoring the people around them, she tenderly took his hand. "We'll find it," she promised with a squeeze. "Do you remember anyone who used it there? Anyone Zemo might have found?"

"They didn't, uh, didn't use names much. The first man who gave me missions grew older and older until he was replaced with a younger man. That one aged, too, and was replaced. The last one is probably still alive. If no one's killed him," he added.

"What can you remember about him?"

"He was… young. Dark hair, eyes. Russian. Not all of them were. He wore his uniform all of the time. And a red cap. They called him… Comrade. Comrade Karpov." His expressive face cleared and he smiled triumphantly at the recollection.

Her face darkened. She'd heard of Karpov. Everyone had. He'd been essentially the head of Department X, though she hadn't realized he'd personally overseen the Winter Soldier. She had heard that he'd defected after she did. But she'd also heard that he'd taken a lot of their secrets with him.

"I hate to say it, but he'd have changed his name by now," Sam broke his silence at last.

"I know where he is," she replied coolly. Or was, anyway.


	30. From the Cloud Riders, No Escape

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **(Cliche Melancholy - Yeah, Bucky's been pretty focused on his own area of expertise, so probably wouldn't know much outside of it. I'm glad you appreciate Sharon's Avengers logic :) I know, these two! Don't give up so easily, Bucky! Aww, thank you! See, Nat's starting to hold up that sign :P I hope you enjoy how things play out - there's just a couple chapters left!)**

 **From the Cloud Riders, No Escape**

Bucky closed his eyes as the plane set down on the runway. He hated flying. Or any kind of rapid travel. Sitting next to him, Natalia was watching out the window, rapt with delight at their descent. God, she was amazing. But then the moment was gone and he felt calm again. "You ready?" he asked.

Her nod was resolute, and he followed her off the plane and into the Sheremetyevo airport in Moscow. She clearly knew where she was going, so he just kept an eye out for anyone paying more than warranted attention to them. The reason they were here was to track down Karpov. Natalia had some associates who would know where he was, or at least point them in the right direction. While they did that, Steve and Sharon had remained behind at the compound, consulting their respective sources for any other leads or potential attacks. They had his list of previous jobs and intended to make sure no more of them were repeated.

The sun was just setting when they landed, and it was fully dark by the time they reached the destination Natalia had in mind. It looked like an ordinary bar, but he had a feeling it was hiding a few secrets. They got themselves a table and he watched Natalia nursing her drink while inspecting the crowd. There was not much he could do here except provide backup, which wasn't a role he particularly enjoyed. Still, he was looking forward to seeing Natalia work. She always did impress him.

Back at the briefing, she had told them about how, after the Red Room went under, a lot of their people stayed in touch. It hadn't been a homey environment, but its agents knew better than to let valuable resources escape because of personal circumstances. So Natalia knew of several places where her former associates liked to congregate. Safety was in numbers, after all. One of these, she was sure, would know where she could find Karpov these days.

They remained there without speaking for over an hour. He was accustomed to waiting being a significant part of any job, so didn't mind. His time was spent keeping an eye on the crowd and watching Natalia for any sign that something had caught her interest. Finally, she met his eye and nodded her head toward the door. Just entering was a large man flanked by a thin woman and a smaller man.

"We called him the Black Rose," she said in a whisper before waving at the man in question. The look of shock on his face when he recognized her was entertaining, and he scanned the room suspiciously before approaching them. His bulk was intimidating but Bucky figured that, even alone, neither of them would find him a challenge.

"I didn't expect to see you again," he told Natalia in Russian. His friends stood back several feet, far enough that they were unlikely to overhear the conversation over the music that blared deafeningly in the place.

"You should know by now to expect the unexpected. Or have you gotten soft after all these years?" Natalia replied in the same language, poking the man's gut. Bucky held back a laugh with difficulty.

The person called Black Rose glanced at him appraisingly but apparently found nothing on which to comment. Bucky was supposed to be undercover, so was pleased not to be recognized for what he was.

"I assume you want something, Little Spider," he said as he lowered himself onto the third chair at their table.

"Just information on an old friend of yours."

"I have a lot of old friends who would rather not be found by a traitor," Black Rose said coldly.

Natalia gave him a broad smile. "Can't blame a girl for following better prospects."

He snorted. "Sounds more like you've run from a wolf into a bear."

That dampened her good spirits a little, but only for a moment. "In any case, you bailed out not long after I did, so let's be careful of what words we're using, my friend. Tell me what you know about Comrade Vasily Karpov. Preferably where to find him."

"Well, you're going to be disappointed. He's been dead for years. Killed in an explosion," the large man told her, seeming grimly amused to share the news with Natalia.

A slow blink was Natalia's only obvious response to this, but he could feel her frustration. "Thanks anyway," she said politely, staring off into space.

Black Rose waited for her to say anything else, then stood up and headed toward his people.

"It's alright. We'll find Barabal somehow," Bucky told her reassuringly.

"Did you say Barabal?"

They both turned to face the big man, who was looking at Bucky in surprise. "Yes," Natalia said a little sharply.

Black Rose smiled. "That – that woman took a couple of my best men. Maybe they will find their way back to me, if I send you in the right direction?"

The smirk that Natalia often wore returned and she leaned back leisurely. "I'm sure we can work something out."

* * *

"They'll be fine," Sharon insisted, leaning against the doorframe.

Steve was in the briefing room, ostensibly working. But Sharon was right – he was waiting for word from Bucky and Nat anxiously. Enough so that he'd read the last paragraph on the screen at least twice, and gotten nothing from it. It was hard to pay attention. "I know," he told her, smiling self-effacingly.

She walked in and sat down next to him, glancing at the room around them. "This is a great place."

"Yeah," he agreed, watching her.

Nodding, she continued to survey everything before turning to look at him. "Fury would be glad you're using it."

"I wonder what he'd say about everything that's happened." It was something that had bothered him for quite some time. When would Nick come out of hiding? Surely whatever he was doing could have been dropped long enough to save the Avengers from themselves? If anyone could have stopped them from ruining everything, it would have been him. But still he remained hidden, even now. There was hardly any danger in visiting known fugitives and he would certainly know how to get in contact with Clint.

"He'd say he should have known better than to trust a bunch of overpowered children to play nice when his back was turned," she replied sincerely.

Steve laughed, effectively brought out of his grim musings. "You're probably right. Look at all the mess we've made while he wasn't looking."

Something about that seemed to hit her the wrong way, but all she did was raise an eyebrow at him. "While he wasn't looking?" she repeated slowly.

Blinking, he realized belatedly that she might not know. Should he tell her? There was already a great deal of secrets he was entrusting to her. And now he'd made her suspicious. Surely one more thing wouldn't make a difference. "He faked his death. Though he came awfully close," he added darkly.

"And what's he doing now?" was her calmly polite question, despite the way she looked at him intently.

"I don't know. I haven't seen him in a while, coming up on two years, I think."

She seemed to be taking the news rather well, all things considered. Or maybe things had just ceased to surprise her. "I'm sure he's doing something very important," she said tonelessly.

He couldn't tell if that was meant to be sarcasm or in earnest. "I hope so," he replied.

"We haven't been able to chase down where Zemo was before he appeared in Berlin, impersonating that doctor. Well, I mean, we knew he was in Sokovia for most of his life, but there's a pretty big gap after what happened there and him turning up again," she reported, which was probably why she'd come up here anyway.

A sigh escaped him. "That's no surprise. He did work for an intelligence agency. I'm sure he knows how to cover his tracks."

"Do you think our new friend might be just as impossible to find?"

"I don't know."

She pursed her lips and didn't say anything right away. "Even if she is… Bucky can help us protect potential victims. We might not be able to stop the fire, but we can still keep putting it out. Eventually she'll run out of agents. Or targets."

That brought a smile to his face. "You're right. There's always that option."

"We could entrust this to our own intelligence agency," she offered quietly.

"That would mean you leaving." She nodded. "I don't want you to do that," he stated earnestly, searching her face.

Her smile was wistful. "I don't want me to do that, either," she admitted.

Before their conversation could continue, the phone rang. "Hi, Nat," he said, relieved to see her and Bucky on the screen.

"Karpov seems to be dead, though he may have faked his death to escape his old friends. In any case, Barabal has been recruiting for years, and I've got a location on where to go if we want to try out for her little group."

Steve looked at Sharon appraisingly, and she nodded firmly. "Well, let's get ready for our audition."

 **A/N again: (I know Karpov was killed by Zemo in CACW, but he must have left Russia somehow, and faking his death via explosion would probably work)**


	31. Darling, What's the Blanket For?

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing! Tomorrow will be the final chapter :)**

 **(Cliche Melancholy - The Name of the Rose is definitely my favorite Black Widow comic! Yeah, I don't really think Sharon was in the loop on the whole Fury thing. But it wouldn't really be a surprise to her. Thank you! I hope you enjoy it!)**

 **Darling, What's the Blanket For?**

The facility that Barabal was known to occupy looked like it had been abandoned a long time ago. That wouldn't explain its electricity use, however, and Natasha let herself be hopeful that they were at the right place. She and James were crouched behind some bushes, watching. There weren't any sentries or any lights. That could mean a more high-tech kind of security grid. It would have to be calibrated for a certain size or weight, to avoid being set off anytime a rabbit ran by. The wildlife here wasn't exactly plentiful, but enough to be a nuisance.

"Steve says they've landed," James whispered to her, interrupting her thought process.

She nodded, then handed him a comm device. "Use this. I'm going to go look around."

"Natalia," he said sharply when she started forward. Pausing, she looked over her shoulder at him expectantly. "Shouldn't we wait?"

"I appreciate your concern. But we don't want to walk into a trap."

He snorted. "So you'll go spring the trap and we'll have to rescue you?"

His worried expression was adorable and she leaned over to kiss his cheek. "Fine, come with me."

Their companions would be along in less than an hour. Maybe it was stupid, but she didn't want to wait that long. Not if Barabal was in there. Or, worse, wasn't in there. They would definitely be at a loss if that were the case. She reminded herself that there were clues to habitation indicating more residents than just a few drifters. So Black Rose's information was probably correct. Her only concern was with how current it might be.

The place looked like it had been a factory at some point, and the outer areas were in a heavy state of disrepair. Some of the roofs were caved in, doors were left ajar, a little bit of snow lingered in what must be the shadowy corners during the day. After a careful trek around the perimeter, she looked for an entrance. James tapped her shoulder and pointed toward a clear footprint in the leftover snow. Steeling herself, she nodded and headed that direction.

It was difficult to get inside, dodging debris of all kinds. But after a while of wandering down twisting corridors, they found a coded door. It was obviously newer than anything they'd seen. Hacking into it took some time while James stood guard over her. She grinned when she was finally successful, but dared not make a sound.

Behind the door was a large white room. It was brightly lit, and they both blinked several times before crossing it. Beyond that was a long hallway, spotted with doors. She made her way cautiously forward and opened each door to see what lay inside. The first couple were bunks, then a few offices. As she reached for the next door, the ground beneath her feet disappeared and she fell into some kind of cell.

"Natalia!" she heard James cry, and looked up to see the opening close just as his worried face appeared in it.

"Bozhe moi – Romanova?" another voice nearer to her spoke and Natasha whirled around.

One wall of the cell was a window, and a familiar face was peering in at her. "Barabal," she replied with forced calm.

The woman walked to the door of the cell and, after the slightest hesitation, opened it, revealing two guards flanking her as she entered. Natalia looked at them in consideration, trying to determine if she should attack or not. It wouldn't be difficult to bring them down, she reasoned. But there were probably more around here, and she didn't want to be trapped. Perhaps she could learn something.

"You weren't hard to find," she continued.

Barabal laughed. "Bring her."

The guards grabbed her by her arms, which she allowed, and dragged her along. They went to another large room, directly under the brightly lit one she and James had first entered. Suddenly, an opening appeared in the ceiling closer to the entrance and James dropped down through it. The fall stunned him for half a second before he started toward them, looking angry.

"желание, ржавый, семнадцать, рассвет, печь, девять, добросердечный, возвращение на родину, один, грузовой вагон," Barabal stated calmly and hastily, as if she'd done it many times before.

James stopped and stood passively. Natalia could hardly believe her own stupidity. Of course Barabal would know words to keep him in control. What was she thinking, dragging him in here to be used against his will again? Even if she somehow got him out of this, he'd be right to never forgive her.

* * *

"I think they found a way inside," Sharon said quietly to Steve. He nodded, and she handed him a comm device just in time to hear Bucky's anguished 'Natalia!' They looked at each other, then took off running toward the building.

That was probably unwise, she thought, but they slowed down when they got closer. Her scanner only showed five warm bodies in the area, and if two of them were their friends, this should be easy. Still… Bucky wouldn't have been so upset if there weren't a reason for it, so they'd better enter cautiously.

They found a door that had clearly been Natasha's point of entrance, and Steve motioned for them to halt. Listening carefully, voices were coming from somewhere. But not right through the door. She held her gun ready and looked at him, waiting. He pointed down, and she figured he was right – their friends were in some kind of basement. Her scanner was just infrared, so little further help there. How could they get downstairs?

"I think there's only three of them," she breathed into his ear.

He raised an eyebrow, then nodded. "Shall we go get caught, then?"

Smiling grimly, she considered how labyrinthine this place might be. And how many traps might be in hiding. "We shall," she replied.

They walked into the big room and found a trapdoor hidden rather well in a corner. Carefully, Steve pried it open, then looked up at her, waiting. She gave him a nod, and he jumped down. Taking a deep breath, she followed.

The place was a lab of some kind, and Barabal was facing Natasha and Bucky. But something was wrong. Bucky was holding a gun on Natasha, and staring at her emotionlessly. The two men who had been standing next to Barabal ran over to point guns at Sharon and Steve as soon as they got their bearings.

"Ah, more guests," Barabal said, but she didn't sound too happy about it. "Bring them over there," she added, motioning eloquently.

"What did you do to him?" Steve growled, nodding toward his friend as they were shuffled close by.

"You know, even I can't make 'em like we used to," Barabal said, seeming very satisfied. "Now, you must be the people who have been spoiling my plans. I didn't appreciate that. I'll have to think about what's best to do with you."

Smiling, the woman walked slowly around them while she listed things. "It's not really winter yet outside, but I doubt you'd survive the night if left to your own devices. There are wolves in the forest, aren't there, Natalia? Or I could take you with me. You're obviously skilled agents and maybe I could use a few more of those. If you give me some reason to trust you."

"We won't," Natasha said flatly, grinding her teeth.

"Oh, but you might. Particularly given what I can make your friend here do to you. How would you like that, Natalia? I think that would be a fitting end to your story, don't you?"

Sharon realized that Bucky was staring at her, and she tore her eyes from the Russian woman to look at him. He nonchalantly tucked his hair behind his ear and she felt her eyes widen. There were guns trained on her, but maybe that wasn't going to be an issue for long. Turning her attention to Natasha, she cleared her throat loudly.

Everyone was looking in her direction as a result of her interruption, but she kept eye contact with Nat. "Oh, no stories, please. We'd hate for you to start droning on about how things were back in your day."

Then things happened very quickly. Bucky swung a metal fist into one of the men's faces, and Steve caught the other's arm before he could get off a shot. Sharon ran at Barabal, intending to distract her, and quickly found that the woman's alleged Black Widow status had not decreased with age. Natasha, fortunately getting the hint, pulled out the little pouch Sharon had given her what seemed a lifetime ago, then viciously stabbed Barabal in the neck with the syringe it contained.

"Wolves and girls, Barabal? Both have sharp teeth," she snarled. Sharon didn't understand what prompted that statement, but the stuff acted fast and the woman was out.

Heaving a sigh, she looked around and saw both of Barabal's men on the floor in a heap. "Good job," she said to Natasha with a smile.

"Thanks," was the distracted reply as Natasha ran over to Bucky. "I'm so sorry," she told him earnestly.

Bucky pulled the earplugs out of his ears and smiled down at her. "What?"

"Oh, you idiot," Natasha replied and kissed him.

Steve met Sharon's eye and they couldn't help but laugh. "Hey, now, break that up," she said after a moment. "We have some cleanup to do."

"You wouldn't say that if Steve was kissing you," Natasha grumbled as she pulled away slightly, breathless for several reasons.

"I should hope not," Steve agreed, sounding like he was offended.

Sighing, she stood on her toes to kiss him, then frowned at Natasha. "Happy now?"

The redhead leaned against Bucky, who was clearly floored, and smiled. "Immeasurably. Now what?"

"I can get my people to take them off our hands. Then, I don't know."

There was an awkward silence as they all considered what it meant if this job was truly over. "How about dinner? At my place," Steve offered.

"James can show off those cooking skills he told me about," was Natasha's enthusiastic contribution, though it made Bucky blush.

"I think that sounds great," Sharon said, smiling at Steve. "You go on ahead, I'll take care of things here. It's best if you're long gone before any of my people arrive," she added when Steve looked like he would protest. He kissed her again before he left and she watched them go, weighing her options.


	32. We'll Be Riding Out This Storm

**A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed, favorited, or followed! I hope you all enjoyed this celebration of Staron/BuckyNat month - I definitely enjoyed writing it!**

 **(Cliche Melancholy - I'm so glad you liked the conclusion! Those were my favorite parts, too :) Ah, yes, the kiss. It's been a long time coming :P I look forward to hearing how you feel about this final chapter!)**

 **We'll Be Riding Out This Storm**

Steve led the way to the airport, and they flew back to his headquarters. After the initial giddiness, the fact that it was nearly dawn and they hadn't gotten a lot of sleep in several days started to wear on them, so they didn't talk very much. He drove, and they spent most of the ride in companionable silence. Nat took the front seat and soon was napping. At least, it seemed like she was. He expected she could fake it convincingly when she had reason to.

"Do you guys have something you want to share?" Steve murmured mildly, glancing significantly in Nat's direction after catching Bucky's eye in the rearview mirror.

"I like her," Bucky replied placidly, but he was visibly nervous.

"She is pretty likeable."

Bucky rolled his eyes at that. "I… don't want to go into it without talking to her first," he said after a pause.

That made sense. "Alright. I'm glad you're getting along, at any rate." Bucky made a noise that sounded suspiciously like 'me too' but Steve couldn't be sure. Before he could ask him about it, he changed the subject away from himself, as usual.

"How about you and Sharon? You going to make that work?"

A heavy sigh escaped him and he glanced back at his friend as he pulled into the carport. "I'm going to try."

"She's good for you. Don't screw it up."

Steve snorted. "Yes, sir," he said with a mock salute.

Sam was waiting to greet them and headed over as soon as the car was stopped. "Did you lose Sharon?" he wanted to know, fixing Bucky with an accusatory glare. Bucky laughed a little raggedly in response.

"She had some things to take care of. Said she'd be here for dinner," Steve replied, heading past him. "Oh, and Sam? I think you missed the boat on our mutual friend."

He paused by the door to watch Bucky wake Nat, and shook his head slightly as she leaned him as they started toward him. Sam was watching, too, and Steve couldn't remember him ever looking so surprised.

"Huh," was all that Sam could say, before following them and sharing a look with Steve as they made their way to the briefing room.

Things had not exactly piled up in his absence, but there was enough to keep him occupied while he waited for Sharon. He went to shower and get cleaned up after putting out most of the fires. If dinner was all that he had before she might go on her way, he'd better plan something to get her alone afterward. He went to the common room to look for inspiration, searching through their somewhat limited forms of entertainment.

"Hey," a familiar voice interrupted him before he'd found anything.

He smiled at Sharon, who had stopped in the doorway to the kitchen. "Hey. Did you take care of the bad guys?"

"It's not exactly tied in a bow, but it's wrapped up."

Nodding, he cast about for something else to say, besides what he wanted. He didn't want to pressure her, but he needed to know what she was planning to do next. And how he fit into that. But it could wait until dinner was over, at least. "Are you ready for our double date?"

The idea surprised her and she grinned. "What about Sam?"

"I don't think he'll want to be stuck in a room with Bucky making eyes at Nat."

"I think they'll be making eyes at each other. It's enough to make you sick," she said very seriously as she walked closer to him.

"Absolutely disgusting," he agreed and pulled her into his arms. "Good thing we aren't like that at all."

"Good thing," she echoed, looking up at him expectantly. He bent to kiss her and decided he that maybe he didn't need an excuse to get her alone after dinner.

* * *

It seemed to have escaped Natalia's notice that they were going to investigate someone who could very well know more about him than he did. So as soon as he saw her disappear through the floor, the sick feeling in his stomach reminded him of how easily he could be controlled. He didn't know if Sharon's earplugs would help or not, but he didn't figure anyone else would be saying something important to him anytime soon.

They worked. Sharon's quick thinking got them out of a tight spot. They didn't linger – well, the three fugitives didn't. Sharon sent them along and called her bosses for containment. Steve didn't like leaving her, kissing her hard before they left. Bucky looked at Natalia when that happened and felt himself blushing, thinking of her earlier kiss. His heart fluttered when she blushed, too.

Steve drove them home, which was great, and Natalia slept most of the way. The anticipated questioning from Steve relented when he said he'd prefer to talk to her about it first, and soon enough they were back at the base. He led Natalia to one of the empty rooms to sleep, then headed to another to do the same.

He was up and scrounging around the kitchen when Sharon arrived. "Hey, Bucky," she said, sounding tired.

"Thank you for these," he told her sincerely, holding out the earplugs.

"Keep them. I'm sure you have a better use for them," she added, smiling.

"Steve's in the next room. Dinner will be ready in half an hour."

She nodded and disappeared through the door. He could hear her greeting Steve, followed by some giggles he probably wasn't supposed to notice. Pulling the door closed, he got back to work. Making food was something he enjoyed doing, especially after a stressful encounter. It helped him focus on the here and now, and on doing something positive, instead of dwelling on what had just happened.

Possibly Sharon's entrance woke Natalia, because she opened the door not long after he'd shut it. "Hey," he said quietly.

"It didn't even occur to me that she might know the activation phrase," she said without preamble. "I should have. I'm sorry."

He put down the spatula and walked over to where she was lingering in the doorway. "It worked out just fine," he assured her.

She bit her lip and he struggled to tear his eyes away. "Thanks to Sharon."

"Yes. Well, she's good. Maybe she'll stick around and help Steve keep his head on straight. What, uh, what do you think you'll do?" he added hesitantly.

"What do you want me to do?" was her predictably frustrating response.

"Let me kiss you," he admitted.

That turned out to be just fine with her. He had no intention of stopping, but then one of the pots started boiling over and he had to take care of that. She leaned against the counter with a small smile on her face, watching him. "You know, I saw you once. When you were frozen. I wouldn't… I wouldn't like to see it again," she murmured.

He continued to stir the pot but watched her achingly. "It's… best for everyone if I'm not around."

"Not for me."

God, that was tempting. He was wavering, but fortunately Steve and Sharon wandered in to save him from having to answer her. They were holding hands and were both a little flushed, which made him smile.

"Can we help you with anything?" Steve asked.

"You can help convince James that he should stay here with us," Natalia told him with a smirk.

She hadn't stated her choice in the matter before, causing Steve to blink at her then smile. "Us? You're staying?"

"I can't think of a reason not to," she replied, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "What about you, Sharon? Ready to abandon this life of crime?"

Sharon smiled a little. "I haven't decided yet."

Steve looked uncomfortable with Natalia's insistence, though whether it was for Bucky's sake or Sharon's was difficult to tell. Maybe both. "We can talk about this later," he said.

With a sigh, Natalia looked at Bucky. "It seems like, with a pair of earplugs, you're free to face the world. You've been asleep long enough. You could stay here, be part of the team." She didn't say it, but he could see that she meant more by that than just Steve and his friends.

"Alright," he said at last. She grinned and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. He turned his head at the last second to kiss her properly.

"That doesn't seem sanitary," Steve whispered loudly to Sharon. "Maybe we should order out for dinner."

Bucky laughed as Natalia settled for leaning against him. "I thought we were trying to keep a low profile."

"Yeah, Steve, I don't think we want to risk any delivery persons coming by," Sharon told him with mock-reproach, surprising Steve by joining in.

Feeling Natalia laugh against his chest, Bucky smiled down at her, then looked up at Sharon again. "So, what do you think, Sharon? If you stay, maybe someday we'll save your ass for a change."

Steve snorted, but looked at her intently. "You don't have to," he murmured, though his preference was clear on his face.

Her smile became thoughtful, then broadened. "Well, I do have a lot of sick days I never use. And it looks like it would be nice to be on the receiving end of a rescue. So, sure."

If she had been planning on saying more, they didn't hear it because Steve immediately swept her into his arms to kiss her. Bucky looked down at Natalia, who smiled up at him. He was sure they were not going to regret this decision.


End file.
